Shattered Everythings
by Avila Grace
Summary: Pam and Roy never had a perfect relationship. It took years for Roy to break her, how long will it take for her to mend the brokenness he caused? Will anyone be there to help her? JAM.
1. Chapter 1

_A/N: So, I know I'm normally fluffified, but I thought I'd try my hand at some angst. I'm not sure how good it is, but I wanted to hear some comments from you guys. Let me know what you think. Also, I'm not sure if its a oneshot or not, so let me know what you think. I like it as a oneshot, but I may be able to be convinced otherwise. Also, this is kind of AU, so don't take it personally._

_Disclaimer: I own nothing affiliated with The Office, other than some stationary and writing utensils._

_Warning: Adult themes, adult language, etc. etc. Don't read if it will offend you. Also, this story has to do with physical and sexual abuse. If you're a victim of this, please think about your boundaries before continuing. _

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Pam soaked in the bathtub, the scent of lavender engulfing the air around her. She closed her eyes and sunk deeper into the tub, letting the bubbles from her bath salts rise above her. Her hair was pushed against the side of the marble tub, sprawling out over the sides. She'd purposely tried not to wet it, but she knew this probably wasn't going to work. Her eyes closed, she thought about her life. Every part of her body was relaxed except her mind, which couldn't seem to shy away from her plans this weekend.

Her mother was coming in town this weekend, and anyone who knew Pam knew that this was a welcome occurrence. Pam had always been closest to her mother, ever since she was a little girl. Until she had met Roy, her mother had been her best friend, and at times, still was. Pam loved the weekends her mother would drive down to Scranton to see her. It seemed like the air was lighter whenever her mom was around; her mom's natural charisma seemed to lighten everyone's mood.

Just as Pam had begun to plan the first mother-daughter activity she and her mom would have that weekend, she felt something tug at her legs, pulling them hard. She knew who it was before she even felt the rough, calloused hands on her legs and she sighed inwardly. She didn't have an internal clock set to the correct time, but she knew that it was early in the morning. She'd woken up with cramps around 2 AM, and the only think she could think of to ease her pain was a hot bubble bath. Her cramps had gone, slowly but surely, but by the time they had disappeared, Pam had already awoken to the smells that fragranced her bathroom. There was no turning back.

She felt the hand lift her feet in the air, and she opened her eyes to stare at Roy. He was looking at her with a hungry sort of force, his fingers digging into her skin. She could feel the places on her legs where bruises would form later that night, but she didn't say anything. She was used to this by now. She was used to the grabbing and the bruises that would ensue. And she bit her lip, unable to tell whether or not she would be able to simply take it again that night, like she'd done so many other nights.

"Hi," she said softly, staring up at the man she was soon to call her husband. His hair was dirty and sticking up all over the place, his breath hot and reeked of alcohol. She hadn't expected anything less, it was nearly 3 AM after all. His body was shaking; there were cuts and scrapes over his face, and his eyes looked bloodshot from all the alcohol he'd consumed, but Pam didn't flinch. She knew what was coming. She knew how it would be. This wasn't new to her.

As she sat staring at him, she could feel his hands digging into her flesh deeper and deeper, and a pain surged through her body like none other. Roy's eyes were fixated on her, his teeth clenched as he hovered over her, domineering over her in such a way that made her feel so small. She looked into his bloodshot eyes, and the thought of making love to him repulsed her.

"Come on," he said bitterly, pulling her by her leg halfway out of the tub. When the force wasn't enough to yank her whole body out, he put his other hand under her arm and lifted her into the air, cursing as water spilled all over him. Just when she thought he was holding her, he felt his grasp slip under the wetness of her body, and she felt her entire being falling, falling, falling until she hit the tile floor with a thud, her head banging against the tub lightly.

Tears filled her eyes as she tried to steady herself, the force of the collision already dizzying her. She stared up at the ceiling, counting tiles in her head, trying to focus when four bloodshot eyes appeared in front of her. She recognized them as Roy's and knew that she was seeing double, yet when Roy took her hands in hers, she momentarily forgot about it. She grimaced as he dragged her body across the slow tile, not slowing down regardless of cracks or things in the way. She felt her body hit against a jagged edge and she yelped out in pain, feeling the blood seeping out of her wound.

"Shut up!" Roy bellowed at her, and she swallowed hard. She knew she didn't deserve this. She didn't deserve to go to bed alone at night; she didn't deserve to be dropped on cold tile; she didn't deserve to be yelled at, or dragged across the floor. This wasn't humane. She knew that. Her head and her mind and her heart all cried out these things, but for some reason, her mouth could not. She could not find the words, or maybe the courage, to leave this room. To leave Roy and his dangerous habits behind. To leave this life behind. Besides, part of her truly did believe she did deserve to be treated this way. He had managed to convince her of this somewhat over the years.

He picked her up and threw her against the wall, pinning her there, not really caring where she'd landed or how it felt against her already sore body. She watched as he pulled off his clothes, throwing them on the ground as he stood naked in front of her, scratches adorning his body. She saw a bruise over his stomach where she assumed he had gotten into another fight at the bar, and she winced, knowing she was about to let this same man penetrate her, and slowly kill her. Soft echoes of "No" escaped her lips, but she knew that he didn't hear her. He didn't want to hear her. He held her in his arms as he penetrated her, whispering nasty things in her ear.

She could feel him moving inside of her, and it made her want to throw up. It hurt every time he pushed in, and every time he pulled out. He thrust inside of her with so much force she was surprised he hadn't broken her already. She was surprised he hadn't permanently injured her. She'd felt so broken, for so long. She studied his face as he looked down at himself fucking her, a grin on his face and a grunt escaping his lips as he went faster and faster, treating her like his prostitute.

And that's when she noticed it. The lipstick on his face. On his neck. On his stomach.

However badly he'd treated her before, this was different. She had never cheated on him. She'd never let another man near her. She'd never let anyone touch her the way he did. She thought about the woman who had given him the lipstick remains, and she wondered if he treated her the same way. She wondered if this other woman had bruises on her hands and legs, covered by the modest dress she wore to her work. She wondered if this woman was as miserable as she was. And finally, she found her voice.

**"NO!"** she yelled, her voice coming back so strong it was as if all of the other unheard choruses of no's over the years had joined together. She was sure he had heard her; there was no way he hadn't. But he kept pushing inside her, completely oblivious to her feelings and her obvious statements that she didn't want this. This wasn't what she wanted.

She kept screaming, but he kept pushing inside of her. She wrestled against him as he reached his climax, completely unaware that this wasn't fun. This wasn't good. This wasn't right. This certainly wasn't HIS right. He didn't own her. He couldn't possess her. This was wrong. This was rape.

He pulled out of her coldly, letting her body fall to the floor with a thud. She screamed at him, "**ROY!**" He turned around, his face fuming, his fists raised in the air.

"What the hell, Pam?" He bellowed, staring at her. She stood up, suddenly very aware that she was naked, broken in front of him. "Stop yelling!"

She looked at him for a minute, then stood her ground. "No." She said curtly. "I will not let you do this to me anymore."

"What? I own you." He said, reaching his hand out toward her chest.

She swatted him away. "No! You don't own me, Roy." She stared at him long and hard. "Get out of my house, Roy. I'm not your possession."

He looked at her with such an intensity she wondered what he was capable of. What could he possibly do to her? Her mind couldn't find a limit. There was nowhere in her mind that said _he wouldn't do that! _Suddenly, she became fearful. She had no idea what he would do to her.

"Oh, you're not?" he screamed at her, hurling insults at her like he was throwing darts at a dart board. "You want me to leave? You're never going to make it anywhere. You're a nothing. You're nobody. The only reason I'm even with you is because you're a fucking tramp."

She opened her mouth to say something to him, but he cut her off, "Shut the fuck up, woman!" He yelled, walking away from her. He picked up the dining room chair and lifted it over his head, hurling it at her as he walked out the door.

She sank to the ground as the force of the chair hit her, the arms hitting her face and the legs jabbing into her stomach. She felt the tears coming, but she wasn't going to let them. She couldn't let him win. She heard the roar of his truck outside and she knew he was gone. Hopefully, forever. She felt lucky to just be alive.

As she looked around the room, tears threatened to consume her, but she wouldn't let them. He was NOT going to win. She wouldn't let him. All she wanted, at that point and time, was someone. Her mom, maybe. Anyone that would listen to her. She got up shakily, still dizzy from the collisions and headed toward the phone, dialing the number she knew by heart. The voice on the other end was groggy, almost completely unaware of what was going on. She hung up without saying another word and laid in the middle of the floor, naked and exposed.

Only a few minutes had passed when she heard banging on the door downstairs. She stayed lying on the floor, certain he had come back for her. He had gone to get more supplies to beat her with. His words, the chair, the bathtub, it wasn't enough. He needed more. He needed to mutilate her more. She heard the door thrust open and she stayed there on the floor, her eyes closed, shaking from the fear of what was to come.

She heard his footsteps on the stairs: fast, heavy. She knew he was only a few feet away now, and she could feel her entire body tense at the thought. Her whole face felt swollen, which she considered a good thing, as it kept her from being able to rely on her senses. She could see his shadow around her, and she watched in fear as he reached down and picked her up in his arms.

It was a different feeling, being picked up. She felt different in his arms this time than she had before. She felt his fingers running through her hair and she turned her face to look at him, scared, yet feeling safe. And then she saw his face. Kind, loving. There was an expression on his face that showed her his love. She put her arms around his neck, and he leaned down and kissed her forehead.

He grabbed a blanket off the bed and wrapped it around her body, knowing how exposed and used she must have felt. He had so many questions, but he knew better than to ask her at this point. He knew better than to ask her now.

"Let's go." He said softly in her ear and she nodded against his chest. She looked up at him, his brown hair falling around his ears, his eyes showing her the depth of his love. She thought about the way he was holding her, how safe she was in his arms. How he'd thought to preserve her modesty, even as she lay naked, helpless on the floor. And as he held her, she started crying. All of the tears that had been built up from the first moment she had seen Roy 9 years ago were falling from her eyes, cascading down her cheeks. She sobbed, taking loud gasps of breath in between her cries.

She cried for a long time; she wasn't sure how long. It felt like hours, but she was sure it hadn't been quite that long. She looked up at the man holding her, and to her surprise, she saw tears falling down his cheeks too. Her voice was weak and feeble, but she had found it earlier, and she intended to use it now. "Jim…." She managed to get out.

He put his finger to her lips silently, letting a soft 'shh' escape her lips. She looked up at him and shook her head slightly, "Jim…" He looked down at her, sensing the importance of whatever it was she had to say. "Do you love me?" her voice came out in a whisper, very soft and hardly spoken, but he had heard her.

"Yes." He said, looking into her eyes and pulling her closer to him. He carried her downstairs, outside to his car, and put her in, making sure she was comfortable. The ride was slow and steady to his apartment, and she appreciated that, as her whole body ached. When they got to his apartment, he carried her upstairs and dressed her, paying careful attention not to degrade her morality by staring for too long. When he'd finally dressed her in a pair of his old boxers and a t-shirt, he sat on the bed, holding her in his arms. He ran his fingers through her hair, watching her as she slowely drifted off to sleep. He stayed awake all night, watching her, making sure she was alright. As she slept soundly, he whispered in her ear, "I'll never hurt you."

It might have been his imagination, or it may have just been too soft for him to be sure he heard, but he thought he heard her whisper, "I know."

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_A/N: Reviews please. Let me know what you thought (please be a bit specific). Harsh is fine :) Also, one shot or longer?_


	2. Chapter 2

_A/N: Well, I really wasn't going to write more chapters, but you guys seemed to convince me, I guess... I'm not sure how long this will go. No idea. No idea where it's going either. Completely open book. I wrote two chapters for my chapter two, one from Pam's POV and one from Jim's, both going an entirely different route. This one felt right. (Second one I wrote, also). Anyway, review, review, review! I'm not going to keep writing if I feel like nobody's reading!_

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Jim sat there, holding Pam in his arms as she slept. He'd been in this position for over nine hours, just sitting there, watching her, holding her. Every now and then she stirred and he thought she might wake up, but a soft groan would escape from her lips and then she'd settle back in and go to bed. The first few hours he'd watched her, he'd wondered if he should have taken her to the hospital. She hadn't moved at all. It hadn't taken her long to fall asleep, and it had been a few hours before she moved again. Around six, when she still hadn't woken up, he'd reached for the phone and called in sick to work, for both of them. He'd called Toby, explained that there had been a personal crisis and they would both be out. Toby had promised to tell Michael they'd called individually. Jim didn't want anyone to know what had happened to Pam, or what had happened with him and Pam.

Not that anything had really happened with him and Pam, but at this point in time, he knew he needed to be there solely for her. Regardless of what had happened, Jim had decided to be there for her, completely. It hadn't taken long for him to decide this, which was why everything he'd done since he found her lying naked, bruised on the floor this morning at four am had been for the sake of preserving her dignity and convincing her that she could trust him.

He'd been over the events in his head all morning. He had to fill in many of the parts, but he could piece together most of them. He didn't care as much what the details were that happened as much as he cared about understanding Pam, being there for her, loving her. He had pieced together as much as he could, until he was left with one fairly solid idea of what had happened.

He hadn't had much of a look at her apartment when he'd burst through the doors. He'd wanted to get her out of there as quickly as he could. He didn't want to risk anything else happening to her. He had noticed the floors were dripping wet. There was a shadow on the wall in her shape, he presumed it was from the same source as the dripping wet floors. There was a broken chair lying near her body, one of the legs stuck in the wall. He'd noticed her, most of all. On first glance, all he'd noticed was a few random scratches on her legs, arms and face and one huge bruise on her stomach.

After taking her in his arms, he'd realized how awkward she would feel knowing he'd held her naked in his arms. He pulled a comforter off the bed, cursing that it was the one she shared with Roy, and draped it over her body, careful to cover her while still holding her safely. He'd quickly walked downstairs and placed her carefully in his car, a pillow under her head. He'd driven slowly to his apartment, knowing that the most important thing in the world was riding beside him. He didn't dare put her at danger.

When they'd arrived at his apartment, he'd carried her upstairs quietly, nearly tripping on the steps in the darkness. It was four in the morning now, and he'd been up ever since he'd gotten that call from her. That call. She hadn't identified herself; she'd used her home number, so he hadn't even recognized it in his caller I.D. If he had, he still would have picked up. But when she called, all he could hear was her faint breathing, her sniffling before the hang up. And he'd known. From her sniffling and her breathing, he'd known it was her. And he knew her well enough to know that she was in trouble if she called him that early. If she didn't say anything. If her breathing was that shallow. He'd jumped out of bed and driven to her house, not caring if she was actually fine. He just had to make sure.

He'd been surprised when the door had been wide open, and he knew this meant trouble. It was December in Scranton, and there was no reason for their door to be open. If anything, he should shut the door. With a forecast of snow the next morning, he didn't want her to catch a cold or have to deal with snow in the house. As he'd walked to the door, he hadn't heard anything. Not even the rustling of sheets or Roy's clamoring footsteps. What he had noticed through the open door dared him inside.

He saw a broken bottle on the floor, the shards of glass all over the place. Her house smelled like liquor, and it scared him. He knew Roy drank, and he knew she did too. But he knew she didn't drink like Roy drunk. He knew she wouldn't tolerate this much alcohol. And he knew that a broken glass, left on the floor, meant more than just a casual drinking. This was serious.

He stepped around the shards, silently cursing to himself as one jabbed into his foot. As he made his way upstairs, he thought how awkward it would be if she was okay. If one of them were up and had caught her. And that's when he heard her. Sniffling. The same sniffling he'd heard on the phone. And he saw the phone, lying on the ground, the soft repetitive click that came when someone else hung up before you. And he saw her fingers, lightly curled and facing upward, just out of reach of the phone.

He raced towards her, his feet heavy on the wood floors, nearly slipping they were so wet. He could see her shivering, her teeth clattering. As he looked at her, he noticed the wounds on her back and they made his heart drop. He noticed the finger-shaped bruises on her legs and his heart raged. He could have killed Roy at that moment. He could have literally thrown him against a wall and killed him, but Pam was most important. She was it. She was the reason he was here, and he was going to take care of her first.

As he approached her, he could see her body tense. She knew someone was coming towards her, but it hurt him to know that his footsteps sounded so much like Roy's. As he bent down to pick her up, he lightly touched her shoulder in what he hoped was an assuring way, scooping her carefully into his arms. She kept her eyes away from him then, until he went over to her bed and pulled the comforter off it, draping it over her body. She looked up at him then and whispered in such a shy, vulnerable voice, "Do you love me?"

He hadn't really thought about it until that moment, but the words escaped his lips so fast he knew it was true. "Yes." He'd replied. Not a second had passed between her question and his answer, and it was as if both he and she were finding out about his love at the same time. He'd always known he cared for her, strongly. And he'd always known he would jump in front of a moving bus for her if that's what it took, but he had never equated that with love, until now. It was surreal, out of his mouth so fast there was no question that he'd said it just because she needed to hear it. There was no question that wasn't how he felt. It was a simple declaration, and it was true.

He'd driven her to his house, silently, looking back in the rearview mirror as many times as he could to make sure she was okay. He'd carried her up the stairs to his bedroom, placed her on the bed and slowly dressed her in his t-shirt and boxer shorts. He'd noticed the many bruises then. Bruises on her chest, her legs. Dried blood on her upper legs that made him wonder if Roy had raped her.

And now, after sitting for nine hours, running over the details he'd picked up and trying to piece together the imperfections and inconsistencies, he'd come to this conclusion: Roy had come home in a drunken rage. He'd guessed she'd just had a shower or spilled water over the floor or something to that effect. He'd fought with her some, then raped her. When she'd fought back, he'd thrown the chair at the wall, accidentally hitting her, and left her sprawled on the floor to die.

As Jim watched her, she began to shift in his arms and he could tell this was different. Her breathing was less shallow and her eyes were fluttering lightly, longer than most do… He thought maybe she was trying to open them but couldn't, her face was still extremely swollen. He looked down at her, not knowing what she would remember or what she would say when she woke up. Her face was on his shoulder, her hand lying on his chest, her feet sprawled across his lap. His arms were wrapped around her protectively, as if it was possible that by relaxing his arms she'd fall away.

Her hands reached her eyes and she rubbed them, a soft groan escaping her lips. If it wasn't for the fact that she was so sore and miserable, he would have thought it was cute, the eye rubbing. And then she looked up at him, an obvious look of confusion on her face. He could see her trying to remember the night before, her mind going through the events that had taken place. Finally her eyes widened and a spark flew into them, and he knew she knew. She remembered.

She looked up at him and opened her mouth to speak, but then closed it. She reached down for his hand and squeezed it lightly before climbing out of his arms and giving him a look that told him she wasn't ready. He could see the tears in her eyes, and he wondered if they were because of last night, or if there was something more she couldn't tell him. Something more she wasn't ready for.

He nodded. "Hey, I'll leave. You can stay in here and get ready, sleep, take a shower, whatever you need to do." He slowly slid out of bed and walked over to her. He kissed the top of her forehead, tentatively, unsure of whether he should. She looked up at him, no facial expression changed but her eyes had a different spark.

He started to walk out of the room before turning to look at her. "By the way, it's Thursday. I called in for us for the rest of the week. Told Toby we had an emergency. He said he'll make it seem like a separate thing. I'll make you breakfast." He glanced at the clock. "Lunch. Come down whenever you're ready, okay?"

She nodded, her expression not changing in the slightest. He left the room, lingering by the closed door. It was only a few seconds later when he heard something hit the wall with a thud. Only a few seconds after that, he heard something clang against the door, and the obvious sound of a piece of jewelry hitting the floor rang in his ears. He knew what it was without having to think. It was her engagement ring.

As he made his way down the stairs, he could hear other things hitting the wall with an impressive force. He didn't know what she was throwing. He knew it was something of his, but he didn't care. Whatever she threw, it was fine. If she broke something, it was fine. Whatever she needed, he wanted to give her.

He thought about her eyes as she searched him. As he searched her when she woke up. He sensed an embarrassment in her eyes. It was as if she was ashamed that this had happened to her. Ashamed that he had found her. That he knew how her life was spiraling downhill. He knew how timid and shy she was. He knew how much he'd broken her. He'd expected he had done so physically, verbally, emotionally. He hadn't expected sexually. But he knew he couldn't call her out on it. All he wanted was for her to escape it. To come to him if she needed something. To come to him with her problems. To trust him. To rely on him. He wanted her to see herself as he saw her. To see her beauty. The beauty that radiated out of her if she let it.

He understood the need for her to be. And he wanted, more than anything, for her to heal. And if he could be a part of that, he would be. He wanted to be. He just wanted her to be okay. To find herself. To learn how to be complete in herself. He knew he wanted her. He knew he wanted to grow old with her. He knew there was nobody else for him, but her. Which is why, standing in the kitchen, flipping a grilled cheese sandwich and making tomato soup, he decided something.

She was it. He was committed to her, for the rest of his life. If she never committed back to him, that was fine. But he was either going to grow old with her, or grow old alone. And the thought didn't scare him at all.

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_A/N: let me know what you think. I have no idea what's coming up, so I can't even tease you. I just go where my fingers move... Where the spirit takes me... whatever. _

_Oh, I don't own the characters, just the abuse. _


	3. Chapter 3

_A/N: Okay, so here's chapter three. I have a bit of a better idea where I'm headed with this now... Okay, no I don't. Not really. I have no idea. But I just keep writing as the ideas flow. Hopefully it will work out. My goal is to completely change Pam. those of you waiting for Jam to get together, it probably won't be ANYTIME soon. maybe in the epilogue. ;) Oh, and warning: Adult language._

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Jim was in the kitchen, dishing Pam's grilled cheese onto a plate and pouring her a glass of Cherry flavored Juicy Juice when he heard her quiet footsteps, as she came down the stairs. He looked over at the stairs and grinned at her, but he received only a weak smile in return. Her arms crossed over her chest, she stood looking above him slightly, her eyes glazed over and her hair a mess.

He set her plate and drink on the table, pulling a fork and some napkins out of the drawer. She watched him do so, silently, leaning against the wall. He walked over to her, and as he got closer, he watched her eyes get bigger. She clutched her arms to her chest tighter instinctively, taking a step backwards.

"Hey…" he murmured, reaching his hand out for her to take. "I made you some lunch." She looked at him, reluctance in her eyes, and it made his heart drop as he realized how scared she was. He had completely destroyed her. Not only her body, but her spirit as well. He had no idea how to convince her he was for real.

"Pam, I…" he looked in her eyes, and as soon as he did, he knew there was nothing he could say. At this point, it wasn't words that she needed to hear. It was actions. She needed to see his love for her. As he locked eyes with her, she started to look away, but he brought his hand to her face, gently, wincing as she flinched with his touch. He moved her face so he could look in her eyes, simply staring into them, willing himself to show her all the love he felt for her. He heard her gasp softly as she looked at him, but then she closed her eyes, as if just looking in his eyes was too exhausting.

"I'm here for you," he whispered softly in her ear. She nodded softly and touched his hand, looking up at him. He looked back, and as he did, he noticed the wrinkles on her forehead.

She looked down at herself in his boxers and shirt. She was silent, but her eyes were pleading.

"You need clothes." He stated, as if it was a fact. She nodded lightly, fear overcoming her once again. "Think the door is unlocked?" She nodded softly. He squeezed her hand lightly.

"You eat your lunch, I'll go get your stuff." He said. He felt her gaze on him as she smiled lightly, some fear from her eyes disappearing as she realized she wouldn't need to go back there. Just as he was about to let go of her hand, he felt her squeeze back softly. He smiled to himself and handed her his key, leaving his house and locking the door behind him.

As Jim drove the four blocks to her house, he thought about her. How cute she looked in his t-shirt and boxers. How much his heart ached every time he saw her hurting. How, if he ever ran into Roy, he would totally and completely demolish him. He thought about what he'd done wrong when it came to Pam. How he hadn't talked to her earlier. How he hadn't been there for her when he needed her. How he hadn't thought to tell her he loved her before today. He'd sat by idly as Roy abused her. It ate away at his heart that the one person he loved most in the world had been hurt, and he hadn't done anything to stop it.

He parked his car in the driveway and walked up to the door, silently observing the house. It was strange to see it again. To see how perfect it looked from the outside, and yet he knew how absolutely demolished it was inside. How scary and demented it was. He took a deep breath and braced himself before turning the knob. As the door opened, his eyes watered at the sight. He shut the door behind him and slowly wandered throughout the living room. He could see the broken shards of glass. His heart sank.

He made his way up the stairs, scared of what he might find. As he stopped at the top of the stairs, tears fell freely down his cheeks. He walked over to the place where he'd found Pam and noticed the dried blood. He reached down and fingered it, unsure of why, but knowing he needed to. He walked around the apartment slowly, looking at everything around him. He noticed a trail of blood to the bathroom and gasped as he opened the door, seeing strands of Pam's hair next to the tub, right near a small pool of blood. His feet gave out from under him as he slid onto the floor, hugging his chest. How dare he do this to her?

He sat there, staring for a few minutes, unable to stop the tears from choking in his throat. Slowly, he pulled himself up. He took a deep breath and walked into the bedroom, forcing himself inside. He saw a picture of Pam and Roy on the nightstand, his smile glowing as he held her. Hers was there, but he could tell it was forced. That's when he noticed a small discoloring on her arm. He gasped and picked up the picture, throwing it hard against the wall so that the glass frame shattered.

He reached into her closet and pulled her duffel bag from it, throwing as many of her clothes as he could into it. He made his way through the bedroom, picking other random oddities that he knew were hers that she'd want. As he walked downstairs with her duffel bag, he saw the teapot he'd got her for Christmas sitting in the kitchen. He picked it up slowly, and walked out the door, duffel bag in one hand, teapot and keys in the other. And that's when he noticed the truck pull into the driveway. His heart leapt into his throat as he opened his car door, placing the duffel bag and teapot inside. He closed the door behind him, locked it, and turned to face Roy.

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Roy groaned as he drove into the driveway, parking his car next to Jim's old Toyota. What was he doing here? Roy'd woken up this morning in his car, unsure of where he was. He'd driven by the house before going to work, but all of the lights were out, so he figured Pam had already left with Angela. When he'd gotten to work that morning, one of the guys in the warehouse had asked him what Pam had come down with. He went to ask Toby what the problem was, and Toby had told him she was sick. He'd decided to bring her lunch on hopes of getting out of the doghouse after their apparent fight last night. He didn't remember it, but he figured if he woke up in his car, something had happened.

He got out of his car, staring at Jim. He thought he'd seen him through something in his car, but he wasn't sure. It was probably just that dumb messenger bag he carries to work every day.

"Hey man," Roy said, walking toward him. "She doin' okay in there?"

"What?" Jim asked, looking confused. Roy gave him a strange glance before repeating his question. "Is she feeling okay? Toby said she was out sick."

"Not quite," Jim said, clenching his teeth.

"Then what's the deal?" Roy asked, curious as to why Jim was standing in his driveway, apparently having hung out with his fiancée.

"She's not here," Jim replied coldly, matter-of-factly.

"I'll kill you." Roy's voice was loud and angry. He felt as if he could leap out of his skin, his rage was boiling. "What the fuck are you doing, man? That's my fiancée. You don't mess with another guy's fiancée!"

Jim could feel his anger at Roy rising. In his mind, mental images of Pam, lying on the ground bleeding and shivering came to his mind. He knew he would never be able to shake the images from his mind, and they were especially vivid with Roy standing in front of him. He took a step closer to him so that he was right in Roy's face before speaking.

"She's not your fiancée anymore. She'll never be your fiancée again." His voice was sturdy and strong. So sturdy and strong it nearly scared Roy. He was confused. What was Jim talking about? All he had ever done was love Pam. He'd given her the best sex of her life. Many times. At all times of the night. What could she possibly want to leave him for? Besides, she didn't have a mind of her own. He'd made sure of that years ago. She belonged to him, now.

"Oh, please Jim. I own her," He said through gritted teeth.

Jim looked at him, horrified. He could feel his face getting red and his fists forming as he spat, "You do NOT own her, you asshole."

Roy could feel the heat rise up through his arms as reached his arm up and punched Jim across the face. Jim glared at him, holding his jaw, before striking Roy hard in the face, sending him backwards a few steps. As Roy prepared to punch him again, Jim put his hand up, blocking Roy's blow and sent his knees flying into Roy's crotch, sending him down to the pavement. Jim hovered over him, his voice stern and his face unforgiving.

"Don't you ever touch her again, you son of a bitch." Roy shrunk under Jim's voice, feeling smaller and smaller as he looked up. Whatever he'd done to Pam, he could tell that Jim wasn't kidding around about this. As Jim walked over to his car and climbed in, his face still red, Roy could see Pam's duffel bag sitting on the seat. The anger boiled inside of him again as he got to his feet.

Jim started the car and as he saw Roy running toward its hood, he snickered to himself. Leaning his head out of the window, he yelled out to Roy, "I already want to pummel your ass. Get out of my way, or I'll do so with my car." He saw Roy back away, and Jim backed out of the driveway, racing home to find Pam.

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She stood next to the refrigerator, looking over the pictures on the doors, tears falling down her cheeks. Pictures of Jim with his nieces covered the fridge. She smiled and reached out her finger to touch one. There was a little girl with curly blonde-brown hair, sitting on Jim's lap. She had a Snow White dress on with puffy sleeves, and it was easy for Pam to tell she'd been wearing lipstick. She couldn't have been more than four, but the look on her face was priceless. She was sitting on Jim's lap, her legs crossed over his. Her eyes were gazing into Jim's and she was laughing, or smiling, but it looked like she was laughing. She was probably the happiest little girl in the world. But, what really struck Pam was Jim's eyes. As he stared at his neice, she could see how much love he had for her. He was wearing her tiara, laughing and touching her nose.

As she stared at the picture, her heart melted. She realized how much she wanted to have man that would stare at his children the way Jim stared at his nieces. She knew Roy would never have been that man. She would have been the parent, the only one who cared about her kids at all. And it would have taken so much of an effort for her to even get pregnant. To convince Roy to have children. And she would have been broken-hearted by the way he treated them.

Tears fell down her cheeks as she let her hand slide off the picture. She wasn't sure if she'd ever get the happy ending she so dreamed of. As the tears fell, she felt a hand graze her shoulder lightly. She turned to look at Jim, tears falling down her cheeks. She opened her mouth to say something, then closed it, not able to even utter a single word. He wrapped his arms around her and held her. When she pulled away minutes later, wiping her tears, she noticed the bruise on his face and once again the tears fell. Faster. Freer. Crying for him was different than crying for herself. Hurting for him was different than hurting for herself. Every pain she'd felt the night Roy had attacked her came back, but so much more powerful. Her entire body burned as she thought of what Roy had done to him. And all he had ever done was try to protect her.

She looked up at his face and touched his bruise lightly. He winced under her touch, and she let out a shriek before dropping to the floor, bawling.

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_Review. Tell me what you want!_


	4. Chapter 4

_A/N: Wow. I cannot tell you guys how much I love this chapter. I didn't have any plans for it, it just felt like each word was connected. It took me by surprise as I wrote it. I really feel like the characters led this chapter, which was exciting for me because I almost got to be a reader! I hope you enjoy it--I was crying by the end of it. I'm a baby though. :)_

_Also, for the sake of the story: Pam never broke it off with Roy when Jim left. _

_Thanks for the reviews, guys! They're great. Also, flashbacks are in italics._

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He stood there watching her as she ran her fingers over the pictures he had on his refrigerator. He smiled as he remembered the times, and looking at her, his heart almost ached at the realization that she hadn't been there when any of those pictures were taken. She hadn't been his best friend, and she certainly wasn't the girl he could take to any family outing he chose. He smiled as he watched her, noticing her outfit. She was still in his boxers, but she'd changed her shirt. Put on one of his old sweatshirts. His mind drifted back to a time years before when they'd been playing Frisbee during one of the weekends Roy was away.

_"Pam, catch!" he'd flung the Frisbee at her, and watching it spiral at the air toward her, he'd felt a leap in his heart as he'd finally realized he'd done it right. He'd never grown up playing Frisbee, but she had, and she'd volunteered to teach him. Roy was out of town visiting an old friend in Virginia, leaving Pam alone over the weekend. She'd only made it a few hours into Saturday before she'd dialed his number. Apparently, Roy hated Frisbee and lately she'd had the urge to run around and throw things. Who else to invite when in that predicament?_

_She caught the Frisbee, smiling, "Nice one, Halpert. You're really starting to get the catch of being a boy." She winked at him and threw one spiraling back at him, so fast he hardly had time to react. It hit him in the head and bounced into his arms and he laughed as it did, completely aware that her throw was not only more accurate, but more forceful as well._

_"Who are you, and what have you done with my best friend?" He asked, laughing. She smiled and walked over to him, her hair blowing in the wind. He'd never seen her look more beautiful than in that moment. He was sure she had no idea, too. Girls always seemed to think they were only beautiful when wearing dresses and makeup, but Pam… She was a different kind of girl. She was just as beautiful in her running outfits as her fancy dresses. He studied her then, and he had to smile. Black shorts, bright green t-shirt that brought out her eyes, and an orange baseball cap on her head, he couldn't have thought she was any more beautiful. It was amazing what that woman had done to him._

_"I'm still your best friend," she smiled. He smiled back at her and held her gaze for a soft moment, before she shivered and looked away. "I'm really cold," she said, smiling lightly. It was late March, nice enough outside for a rousing game of Frisbee, but there was still a slight chill in the air. Pam had never been very tolerate of the cold, anyway._

_He smiled and pulled his sweatshirt off his body, and as he did, he could feel part of his shirt rising, but he didn't care. He handed her the sweatshirt and smiled. "Warmest sweatshirt you'll ever find," he smiled._

_She looked at the sweatshirt, reading the front of it. "Did you really run in this race? The Scranton Christmas in July Jingle Bell Run?"_

_"I did."_

_"I didn't know you liked to run these things. You should have told me," she said, laying down on the grass and looking up at the big blue sky. He laid beside her, smiling._

_"I would have. It was before I met you, though." He looked over at her, and he could see her smile lightly. She looked over at him with a sparkle in her eyes._

_"Well, are you planning on running it this year?" He nodded. "Can I join you?" she asked._

_"Sure. We can have matching sweatshirts." She laughed, and he could almost feel the vibrations through the ground they were sharing. She smiled and leaned in closer to him. He could smell her shampoo. He'd never liked the smell of citrus shampoo before he met her. He'd never liked much of anything before he met her._

The sweatshirt was ratty now. It was over five years old, and every year he got a new one when he ran with Pam. Yet, he recognized that one anywhere. That was the sweatshirt The one he'd kept just because of that memory. He knew it was by the grass stains on the back of the shirt, the way it fit her so perfectly, the way it still smelled a bit like her citrus shampoo. He smiled as he thought of the memory, and he wondered, for a moment, what it meant that she had picked out THAT sweatshirt. The memory sweatshirt.

He heard a soft sound escape her lips and was jolted back to the here and now. Pam. He had to focus on her. Not what she used to be, but who she was now. He looked past her at the picture she was staring at, and he smiled. It was one of his favorite pictures. He and Charlotte at her fourth birthday party. He'd have to remember to tell her about that.

He reached out and touched her shoulder lightly, and he felt her jump a bit under his touch. She turned to look at him and opened her mouth, but he could see easily she just needed someone to hug her. He wasn't looking for her to speak; he was just looking for her to be open to him, to let him in. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her in for a hug as she wept. When she pulled away, he saw her examine his face. She looked at him in horror, tears falling freely. When she reached out to touch it, he flinched, as any toddler child would when you got close to their latest bruise or cut. He heard her yelp at the thought of hurting him, and then watched as she went crashing to the floor, the tears so loud she could hardly breathe.

He sat down beside her and pulled her into his arms, holding her as she continued to sob. He wasn't sure which part of her he was sobbing for, but he knew that she was doing heavy crying for more than one part of her life. More than one part of her heart had been shattered in the past 24 hours, and he knew that. But he also knew that he wanted to help her rebuild it. As she settled into his arms and her crying slowly ceased, he thought about what he could do to help her. And that's when he understood. She might not need to speak words, but that didn't mean she didn't need to hear them. And so he opened his mouth.

"Pam." He said softly, brushing the hair out of her eyes. She looked at him, her eyes dark and sad. "I know you don't want to talk, and that's fine with me. Honest, it is. I am perfectly okay with your nunnery-like vow of silence." She smiled softly and he continued. "But, I need to talk. So do you think you can listen?"

She nodded lightly and looked up at him, settling into his chest. He held her closer before continuing. "I remember the first day I met you. I'm not sure if you remember it, but my life hasn't been the same since." He looked down at her head, feeling the strange excitement that came with speaking the truth. With letting others in. "I walked into Dunder-Mifflin, and there was this receptionist sitting at the counter, taking phone calls. And let me tell you, she was beautiful. I never was one for curly hair, but when I saw you… I don't know, Pam… It was like all of my old preferences went out the window, and they were replaced by you.

"I came up to you and said, 'Hi, I'm Jim Halpert, I'm the new salesman.' You were such a smart aleck, and at first I wasn't sure if you were being silly or not, but I remember you said, 'Hi, I'm Pam. I'm the old receptionist.' It made me laugh. Pretty soon we were both giggling. And then, the moment that will go down in history as the minute I knew I loved you. You said, 'Enjoy this moment, because you're never going to go back to this time before you met your desk mate, Dwight.' And you nodded towards him, and there he was, eating frog legs at ten a.m. and I knew we were going to be great friends."

She smiled lightly to herself, unsure of whether or not he could see her.

"And then, I don't know Pam… I spent the next three years falling in love with you. Falling head over heels for you. To the point where all I wanted to do was be with you. My life was just a series of waiting between when I'd last seen you and when I was going to see you next. Mondays became the best day of the week because of your face. Fridays were horrible. I lived to go to work and see you. I planned the times when I could go sneak jellybeans off your desk. It just… It seemed like everything meant nothing unless you were at the center of it."

He felt her move against his chest, and he smiled as he felt her warm body against him.

"I spent three years trying to deny I loved you. I didn't want to ruin your life or your relationships. I wanted you to be happy. I wanted you to be so completely happy that you had no idea how to be sad. And I was okay if you were happy without me. I was miserable without you, but as long as you were happy, that miserable was bearable. I could deal with miserable. Just as long as you were happy. All I ever wanted was for you to be happy.

"But then, it started to seem like you weren't so happy… You started to come in with sad faces… I had to work harder to cheer you up. You weren't as interested in pranks anymore, and sometimes, I'd watch you from the kitchen, and I saw that you only smiled when I was there. You fake-smiled for other people, but for me… I got to see the beautiful, genuine smile… And it made me go weak at the knees every time… And I started thinking, what if she isn't happy? What if that smile is proof to me that she'd be happy with me? What if it was possible for both of us to be happy at the same time?"

Her head was still buried in his head. At first, he wondered if he should continue. He didn't want to hurt her more than he had already… But he knew he should. He had to continue. He had to tell her. And now was the right time.

"So I made it my goal each day to make you smile. To make you laugh. And it worked. And then I heard…" He hesitated over Roy's name, unsure of how she would react to hearing it. "Roy say that your engagements didn't count… And I don't know, it drove me over the top. I knew you deserved better, and more. And I knew I was better than him… As horrible as I am, I'm still better than him. And I thought, why not try?

"So I told you. I stood there on Casino Night, looked you in the eye, and told you I was in love with you. And then I walked away. I got halfway down the block when I realized I hadn't showed you that I loved you. I'd just told you. I knew that wouldn't cut it for you. I ran upstairs and tried to muster as much of my feelings as I could into that kiss… But I must not have mustered enough of them because I walked away broken-hearted."

He paused, and he could feel her sniffling against his chest. He considered stopping, but he couldn't. She needed to hear this.

"I ran away, Pam. I know I did. I know I made a mistake… But I was so overwhelmed with love for you. From the moment I stepped foot at Dunder-Mifflin, you'd become my life. Everything had revolved around you… The possibility of us. Wanting you to be happy. And I knew you weren't happy. You weren't happy at all. And I didn't know how to fix it, outside of loving you. And I couldn't stand to watch it, knowing that I couldn't fix it. And I did the wrong thing. I left you. I left you unhappy and upset, in a relationship that I knew was horrible for you."

He could feel the tears clogging his throat and he wrapped his arms tighter around her as he continued, the tears evident in his voice.

"I know you needed me. Now, I know that… I didn't then. I took your rejection as a complete rejection, and I know you didn't mean it that way. You meant it in just the physical, sexual relationship sense. You didn't mean it in the friends sense. But, call me stupid, I thought you did. And I couldn't bear to be there while you were so miserable, knowing we weren't okay. And I didn't know what my life looked like outside of you. And I couldn't figure that out in Scranton, so I left. I moved to Stamford to figure out what my life was like without you. I tried to move on. But all I could see was your face. Your curls. Your eyes. I tried to hide it. I tried to make you go away. I tried it through working extra hard, changing what I looked like, even dating other girls just to get you off my mind, but it didn't work, Pam. It didn't work.

"By the time I figured that out, we were so far gone I didn't know how to get us back. I was both scared and relieved when the Stamford branch closed and I got moved back to Scranton. I wanted to be there for you this time. I wanted so desperately to be there for you… But it was hard, and awkward. You were with Roy again. You hadn't gotten married, which I was glad about, but you were still with him."

He was crying now. Speaking through his tears. His throat seemed so small. He felt like there was no air in the room.

"I saw you come in one day, and it hit me, what he'd been doing to you. I knew, Pam. I knew, and I didn't save you. I waited. Too long. I didn't want to ruin things for you again. I didn't want to ruin our friendship any more than I already had. I wanted us to be close again. And I wanted you to stop hurting. I so desperately wanted you to stop hurting. I've always loved you. I've always wanted what's best for you. And I've always acted wrongly when trying to show you that."

He cleared his throat and continued. Her body felt heavier now, as if she was letting the weight of his confession sink in.

"I convinced myself I was over you. I purposely stayed away from you because I didn't want to make it awkward, or weird. And then you called me last night. I hadn't talked to you in so long, and you called me. At four in the morning. You didn't even say a word. You breathed into the phone, and I heard you sniffle, and I knew it was you. Down in the pit of my stomach I felt it. I knew it from the tips of my toes to the top of my head.

"And I wondered. Is that what being in love is like? Is it being able to pick out the sniffle and the breaths of another person? I drove over to you, brought you to my place and watched you sleep. I watched you sleep for nine hours, Pam. I just sat there and watched. I thought about us, our lives, where we've come from, where we've been. And I realized something as I was laying there in bed, holding you."

He stopped and then touched her fingers. "Look at me. I want you to look at me." He said softly. She pulled away from his embrace and held his hands, looking into his eyes. She could see the love he had for her, the resentment he held at himself for letting himself walk away from her. How sorry he was. Her eyes returned the same sentiment. Fear clouded them, but he could see where the clarity of trust was beginning to wash away the fog of fear.

"I never stopped loving you, Pam." He said, cupping her face in his hands. "I am in love with you from the top of my head to the tips of my toes." He smiled lightly at her. "That might be scary for you to hear, and I understand that. I'm not looking for anything from you. I just need you to know that I love you. And I'm in this. You're the most important person in my life, and my relationship with you… it makes me come alive. I am one hundred percent yours. I'll never be anyone else's. And I don't care if you shoot me down, I'm still going to be the one that's always there for you. You're it. You're my girl, I know that. It doesn't mean we have to be in a relationship, I know you're not ready for that. But I need you to know that I will never hurt you. I will never lay a finger on you. I only want to protect you. I only want to love you."

She smiled softly, tears forming like crystals in her eyes. She nodded and leaned into him, embracing him. He wrapped his arms tightly around her and hugged her back, completely positive he could stay wrapped in the moment forever.

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_So, what do you think? Review, please!!!_


	5. Chapter 5

_A/N: Wow, you guys... I can't describe the feeling I get when I write this story. It's as if these characters just tell me what they want me to say, and I do it. No, but it's really nice to not have a plan and just write where I feel the story's taking me. Everytime I finish a chapter I think to myself, "oh wow, I just wrote myself into a hole." And then Pam and Jim weasel me out of it :) Thanks for the reviews, guys, it's really encouraging!! Enjoy this chapter!_

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Sometimes, you have to make decisions. They may be hard and painful, but you have to make them anyway. They may irritate you to your core, but still, you have to make them. Decisions, choices, whatever you wish to call them, they're what life is about. There's no getting around decisions and choices. There's no backing out of them. By choosing to not acknowledge them, you make a choice. You can choose knowledgeably, meaning that you can choose after careful consideration of the alternatives and other options, or you can simply choose by default, taking the easiest possibility and sliding into it.

It had been four days since Roy had beaten her and Jim had come to her rescue. It had been an absolutely surreal four days. She'd refused to speak the entire time. Why? She didn't know. She just knew that it hurt for her to open her mouth. Speaking was painful, a chore. She hadn't heard her own voice in four days. She'd heard Jim's only, and she appreciated that. He hadn't tried to block her out, or let her have some space. He seemed to be able to tell what she needed by simply looking at her. He knew she needed interaction; he knew she needed to be silent, but she didn't need silence.

The four days had held many tears, many smiles, and many understanding looks and knowing glances between the two of them. She had woken up the first morning to a pair of eyes staring at her. His. Her body had ached, but the feel of his eyes on her had warmed her, slightly, and scared her, mostly. She knew he was different. She knew he wouldn't hurt or damage her in any sort of way. She knew she could trust him. It was just, at this point in her life, she seemed to be cynical and skeptical of everyone. She didn't think that was hard to understand.

Jim had been entirely wonderful as he took care of her. He'd bought her as much juicy juice as she could drink, knowing that sometimes she just wanted to go back to being a little kid. He'd made her lunch and dinner every night, made telephone calls for her, let her have the remote when she wanted to watch something. He was perfect. She hadn't told him so, of course. She hadn't uttered a single word to him since he rescued her. But she knew they had spoken. Not with their mouths, but with their eyes, their faces, their hearts.

Her mind drifted to the conversation they'd had that first night, after Jim came home from her old house. She couldn't describe the feeling that had formed inside of her when she saw Jim's face and knew that Roy had hurt him. It was as if some sort of maternal instinct had taken over, jolting an energy in her. She wanted to kill Roy at that moment. She wanted to make his death long, slow, and painful. She wanted to hurt him like she'd never hurt him before. It was a feeling she'd never gotten after he abused her, but maybe that's how Jim felt about her. Like the one thing that was innocent, beautiful, and perfect in this world was destroyed by a monster.

His confession after she broke down balling was stained in her mind. She knew that he loved her. Even with her tainted vision of what love is, she could see that he loved her. It was in the way he spoke to her, even when he was stern, there was a soft underlying in his voice. In the way he came to her desk for jellybeans multiple times during the day. One time, Toby had given him a bag of jellybeans--knowing how much he liked them--for his desk, but Jim had simply brought the jellybeans over to Pam and asked her to restock. And she knew then. She knew that he loved her. It may seem silly to think that she knew because of a bag of jellybeans, but their relationship had never been the type to communicate through serious ordeals.

Until that night. He'd told her everything. He'd completely bared his soul to her, and she couldn't say anything. He had told her that he had been in love with her for ages, that he had only told her so because he wanted her to be happy, and that when she had refused him, he had ran away because his love for her was eating at him alive. She had never heard someone talk about her that way. With such a ferocity to his love. The notion that his love for her was so great that it was eating at him awed her. It seemed as if, when he explained the thoughts behind it and the love behind his actions, all of her anger for him had melted away. She no longer wondered why he had left, and she no longer wondered if he had just come back because the branch had closed. All of a sudden, it was clear to her. His body may have come back because the branch had closed, but he, the Jim she knew, and dare she say, loved, had come back because he wanted to. He had come back because he missed her and loved her. Even though she had rejected him. Even though she had wronged him. He was able to take her in his arms and forgive her.

She got chills thinking about that kind of love.

She had wanted to assure him of her love after his declaration, but she couldn't speak. She wouldn't speak. She'd had to find a different way. That night, as she lay alone in Jim's bed, her mind was racing, thinking of what she could do to show him. He had generously given up his bed, taking the couch downstairs. She'd gotten up in the middle of the night, walked into the room and rubbed his back softly, waiting for him to wake up. At her touch, his body seemed to jolt alive, as if there was no other way for him to come alive except through her touch. He'd looked at her and she'd stood up, reaching out her hand, waiting for him to take it. When he did, she led him upstairs to his bedroom and crawled into bed, patting next to her. He smiled and crawled in beside her, taking her into his arms and holding her as if he'd never let go.

The next morning, she'd woken up to the smell of French toast, mixed berry yogurt, strawberries, and juicy juice. He'd ruffled her hair as he sat the tray down in her lap, and he'd crawled next to her in bed, ready to tell her about his day. That was what she loved about Jim. He always wanted to talk to her. He always wanted to tell her something, even something as trivial as a dream or a cartoon he watched in the morning, there was always something to tell her.

That afternoon, while Jim went out for a run, Pam took his car. She was afraid of what she was about to do, but she knew she had to do it. She had to face it at some point, and she had to do this for Jim. She had to show him everything she was feeling inside. When she pulled her car into the empty driveway of her house, she sighed, glad he wasn't home. She stared at the house for a minute, took a deep breath, and walked inside.

She couldn't believe, looking at the house, that she'd lived through this. She couldn't believe she'd allowed herself to be engaged to a man that would do this to their house, their home. She grabbed a plastic bag and slowly picked up the pieces of the glass bottles Roy had dropped on the floor, dropping them into the bag. She grabbed a few things off the shelf and put them into the bag too, before she headed upstairs.

When she got upstairs, she couldn't believe how wrecked and damaged it was. All of her belongings seemed to be on the ground, broken and shattered. Dried blood was everywhere. Her dried blood. She slowly picked up the pieces of her belongings that had shattered, and that's when she noticed it. Something she knew she had not thrown. Roy certainly hadn't thrown. Pieces of glass from a beautiful picture frame her mother had given her years ago after their engagement. The picture of she and Roy when she looked happy. Pam knew she hadn't been happy when it was taken, but she looked happiest, so that's what she used.

She fingered the broken shards of the frame, sliding them into her plastic bag. She knew that Jim had thrown it. When he'd come over to get her some of her clothes and necessities, he had seen it and thrown it hard against the wall. It had shattered because of Jim. She thought it was ironic, seeing as Jim had brought her shattered being into a person again. Or as much as could be expected.

She surveyed the room, collecting minor remnants of the night and then tied the bag up, heading downstairs to the secret cabinet Jim had built her for her art supplies. Roy refused to have art supplies in the house. He thought she was wasting her life dreaming of art she couldn't do or accomplish, and so he'd forbid it. One day, Jim had come over and installed some sort of cabinet that only she knew about. She'd kept her art supplies there, knowing that if Roy ever found them, it wouldn't be a pleasant experience.

She opened the cabinet and smiled lightly as she realized she wouldn't have to hide this anymore. Her body tingled with excitement as she took in the paints and charcoals she'd hidden. Her finger glossed over the paper, and she smiled, remembering how perfect art had always felt to her. She cleared out the cabinet, putting all of its contents inside another bag, smiling. She felt as if she could leave this place behind her forever. Most of her things, she didn't want. They had memories associated to Roy. Art was the only thing that Roy wasn't a part of. He refused to be a part of. She chuckled at the knowledge that the most inner and sensitive parts of her soul came out through her art. As she thumbed through it, she saw how unhappy she was with Roy. The memories came flooding back, and all she could do was keep staring.

She turned to leave, surveying the house one last time and waving good-bye, unable to speak once again. She headed back to Jim's house and climbed the stairs to his room ready to take on the world. And she sat on his floor for our hours, creating her masterpiece on top of an old piece of sturdy wood. When she was done, she carried it downstairs and gave it to him.

She watched as he touched it. An 8 ½ by 11 representation of her life with Roy. The colors of glass at the top of the wood piece were sharp, dark and demeaning, the ones from his broken beer bottles. She'd attached little red hearts made out of glass, broken in every way at the top, trying to show him how broken her soul had been with him. In the middle of the piece, there was a small black line. The bottom of the work was so much more welcoming and inviting. The background colored in vibrant water paints, periwinkle the most prominent. She'd attached clear glass all over the background, full red hearts adorned it. In the middle, there was a picture of her and Jim, smiling and laughing. She looked happy in the picture, and she knew she had been happy. It was a perfect representation of them. She'd put extra glass around the picture to create a makeshift frame, making painstakingly sure to only use the glass from the broken picture frame to surround it. In the left corner of the lighter part of her work, under the glass and straight on the watercolor, she'd pinned black stickers that spelled out one of her favorite quotes, "One word frees us of all the weight and pain of life." Directly under the picture in the center of the page, in her own red writing, she'd finished the quote, "that word is love." She'd loved the quote since she was in eleventh grade, reading Sophocles in her English class. Now, as she stood wavering between the broken dreams and hopes of one failed relationship and the dreams and hopes that seemed so bright in the other, she realized how much the quote rang true in her own life.

He had ran his fingers over it lightly, taking in every part of it, trying to imagine that this was her soul coming out in her artwork. He'd never loved a piece of art more than he loved hers at that moment. He knew she was speaking to him, maybe not in a conventional way, but her art said so much more. He'd placed the piece on the counter and hugged her tightly, whispering a soft 'thank you' into her ear. She smiled and hugged him back, heading upstairs to the bedroom. From the corner of her eye, she noticed his fingers linger extra long around the broken glass frame, as if his mind had just grasped that she was giving him all of the pieces and making a new life with them, with him in it.

The next morning, Saturday, she'd come downstairs to see her work hung on the wall and she smiled to herself, her heart beginning to grow wings. She and Jim had spent the entire day watching old movies, listening (he'd been talking), and playing board games. She'd missed him dreadfully while he was gone. She wanted so badly to tell him that, but she knew she couldn't speak. Not today.

This morning, Sunday, he'd caught her staring at the pictures on his refrigerator again. Apparently, the little girls he was so smitten with were his nieces, Charlotte and Anna. Charlotte was four now, while Anna was only two. They were adorable girls, both with blonde-brown hair and bright blue eyes. The way Jim's eyes lit up when he spoke about them warmed her body completely. They were his sister, Julie's children. Charlotte loved anything that had to do with princesses and tiaras. When she was little, Charlotte used to switch back and forth between being Snow White, Sleeping Beauty, and Princess Charlotte. There was no sign when she was going to change, she just did so randomly, sometimes in mid-sentence. It had always been up to Uncle Jim to revive her and bring her back to life. He was her prince charming. Apparently, one time Julie had called Jim because Charlotte had been Sleeping Beauty for hours and nobody could wake her up. Jim had driven the half hour drive to go wake Charlotte up, smiling the entire time. Anna was apparently really into teddy bears and hugs and anything that she could snuggle up with. When she was born, Jim had given her a little bear and now that she was two, the bear had lost nearly all of its filling. He'd told her the bear was named Pammy. Pam had always hated the name Pammy, but hearing that Jim had named his nieces bear after her was too cute, so she was able to forgive him. As he rambled on about his nieces for the good part of an hour, she felt strangely comfortable with him, as if she could truly be a part of his family. She smiled at the thought.

He'd gone up to take a shower, and that's where she stood now. Standing at the refrigerator door, eyeing the pictures of Charlotte, Anna and Jim. Her world seemed to open up when she saw the way he looked at those girls. She realized he was a man worth fighting for.

She sat down at the table, seriously thinking. She wanted so badly to open her mouth. To speak words to him. To find her voice, but for some reason, she couldn't. The thought of her opening her mouth scared her deeply. She thought about the last few years, how sometimes, when she opened her mouth with Roy, she'd get rewarded with a slap on a face or a cruel joke at her expense. She thought about how she'd stopped trying to talk to him, how she'd become a silent victim in their relationship. Words had never worked with Roy. Her voice was never heard.

She thought about how Roy had only taken the surface. Every time she talked, he had never been able to really listen to her, to pinpoint where she was coming from with the words she spoke to him. He had never read her, not like Jim had. With Jim, she didn't need to speak to communicate with him. He understood her in a different way, a way that was so remarkably amazing she wanted to soak it up.

She was afraid. She could admit that. She was afraid of opening her mouth, letting part of her soul out, and being rejected. She was afraid, irrationally, that it would hurt her when she opened her mouth. She was afraid, most of all, that she didn't have any voice left.

Decisions. They change the course of your life, and they change you. Simply put, they can either build or break down. They can teach you things you never could have learned any other way. There is no way to escape making a decision. You make one every minute of every day, whether you mean to or not. Decisions and choices, that's what life is about. Pam hadn't thought about deciding… Choosing to love someone. Choosing to walk away. Not until she met Jim. And now she knew. Love was a choice. It was a decision. You could fall in love, but you had to choose to remain in love. You had to choose to love someone. And it was a constant, uphill battle. And if you had to walk away, you had to choose to walk away.

She turned around as she heard the stairs creak. She stared into his bright blue eyes as he looked at her, his Old Spice fragrance filling the room. There he was, right in front of her. She stepped closer to him.

She made her decision.

"Jim," the words came out feeble, as if she hadn't spoken in days. She tested them out more, each time her voice becoming stronger and stronger until she recognized it as the voice she had before Roy. "Jim. Jim. Jim. Jim."

When her voice was strong like she wanted it to be, she looked up at him, staring into his eyes, wanting to show him that she was not scared. This choice didn't scare her at all.

"I love you." She said it with such a fierce voice that she half expected more to come out, but it didn't. As she said it, however strong her voice was, tears were spilling down her cheeks. She shrugged at the end of it, as if to tell him, 'that's the way it is. I can't help it.' He smiled and pulled her into his arms, so thankful to hear her voice. To know she was going to get better. She was going to heal. Knowing, she'd found it. What she'd been seeking for so long. Her voice.

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_A/N: Well?_


	6. Chapter 6

_A/N: Just a note about this chapter. This was an especially hard chapter for me to write, and I debated telling you all this, but decided to anyway out of hope that it may help any of you that may be struggling with abuse. A lot of Pam's story is taken from my older sister's personal story of abuse. These kind of things happen every day to so many people. It's a sad truth, there's just no way around it. If this is happening to you, I urge you to get help. If you know someone this is happening to, I urge you to help them get help. You're never alone in abuse._

_Thanks for the reviews, you guys! If you're not reviewing, please try to! It really helps me write and with this fic being so character driven and I have no idea where I'm going, I'll be able to honor more requests. So please, leave me your feedback and enjoy!._

_Warning: Adult language, Violence._

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Talking was exhausting. Pam had never realized how exhausting it was; she'd never appreciated before how easily it came to people. She'd been silent for four days and now talking seemed to take every fiber of strength in her body. She'd never thought talking would be a use it or lose it tool. She'd thought it would be so easy to open her mouth and speak, but it turned out that she wanted to keep silent more than she wanted to speak.

Part of her was sad she'd broken her vow of silence. In the past four days, she'd felt so in touch with Jim, and with herself. Her communication levels had seemed to skyrocket when she didn't use her voice. She could look around her and tell if something was wrong. She remembered Jim telling her a long time ago about how when you lose one of your senses the others become more sensitive. She could see now how that was true. She was beginning to understand the language of Jim's body, and she was sure he was understanding hers.

She was scared that would go away. But she knew they couldn't live like this. They couldn't live with communicating only through their bodies. They had to speak. They had to use their words. Otherwise, something may be lost.

She thought about how special it was, though, that she and Jim could communicate without words. She'd read in one of her trashy romance novels that silence is the best predictor of a strong love. Couples and friends who loved each other deeply could sit in silence for hours without it being awkward, still communicating with each other. It pleased her to know that she and Jim could do that.

It had been such an effort for her to break that silence. To speak out loud. It was as if sound was trying to force itself out of her mouth, so hard, but there was a barrier. A barrier that nobody could see. And then it came slowly, weakly. "Jim." And she gained momentum, she gained strength. And she finally uttered the words she'd been dying to say since the moment she met him. "I love you."

He was ecstatic she'd spoken. He'd missed the sound of her voice. The sound of her laughter. He'd missed everything about the way she spoke to him. He knew they'd been speaking the entire time, but there was something about that soft voice that comforted him and made him feel at home. It wasn't even the words she'd said that had excited him so much, although that was part of it. It was more that she had opened her mouth to speak.

He remembered learning about the parts of the brain in high school. There were two parts that were focused on language and speaking. Broca's area was involved in speaking language, where Wernicke's area enabled one to understand language. He thought about her. How she'd understood what he'd said, but she wasn't able to reply. He thought about these sections of the brain, how close they were to the frontal lobe, which was the part of the brain that dealt with all emotion. He understood, then, that she couldn't speak because of her emotions. They were blocking her completely. This wasn't just psychological… This was neurological.

When she'd spoke, he'd understood. It was her way of getting out rage. She'd learned to trust him. The rage, hurt and anger that had inhabited her had started to fade away and now she was talking to him, speaking to him. He could hear her voice. He had hoped he would.

He was sitting on the couch, holding her in his lap. Pulling her into his arms. She'd stopped talking after she uttered those three little words. It had been fifteen minutes since she had said anything, but to Jim this felt like a huge step. Fifteen minutes was miles shorter than four days. And then he felt her gaze on him and he looked down, keenly aware of how much he could sense her presence.

"Do you want to know what happened?" She asked him. He looked at her, his eyes taking in her beauty. He wanted so badly to know what had happened to her. He wanted to know what had inspired that scrape across her face. He wanted to know why the most beautiful girl in the world had a bruise on her cheek. He longed to be the guy that could answer 'only if you want to tell me.' He wanted to be a gentleman with her. But he couldn't lie to her. Not again. He could have stabbed himself for being so insensitive to her.

"Yes." He replied, his throat seeming to close up.

"Okay." She said softly, pulling out of his lap and resting on the arms of the couch, her feet sill resting in his hands. She took a deep breath and paused, and he could tell she was thinking. Thinking, perhaps, of how to tell him. How to start this. How to open up this can of worms. He sat watching her, waiting. He could wait forever for her.

"I guess I need to start from before the beginning," she said softly, wiping a stray piece of hair from her eyes. He reached over to her and took her hand.

"You know you can tell me anything," he said, softly, as if there was no question that she didn't know that, but if by some glitch in the universe she didn't, this was her reassurance. She could tell him anything. He would love her through anything. She nodded at him and smiled.

"My dad," she stated, looking at him. "He wasn't ever home when I was little. He worked a lot, I think… I'm not really sure." He listened to her, unsure where she was heading with this tidbit. "When he did come home, it was never the way he liked it. He liked the house quiet and tidy… Dinner on the table… Kidless." Her voice wavered slightly and she stopped for a moment to regain composure before continuing. "We were always in the way. Dad had a saying, 'Kid in the way, beat them 'til they're on their way'." He gasped inside, anger and sadness welling up inside of him, but on the outside, he simply squeezed her hand.

"He always told me that women were supposed to be controlled by men… They were supposed to submit to men. And I guess I believed him. Nobody ever told me otherwise. And if I didn't believe him, I'd just get beat again… I grew up thinking the way he treated me and my sisters and my mom was just normal… That all men were like that and all women were treated like that. Nobody ever really told me otherwise.

"Then, one day… When I was twelve, he came home really mad and angry. I was downstairs doing my math homework, and he saw me there… He grabbed me by the arm and kept yelling at me, telling me I wasn't allowed to do that downstairs. Telling me how dirty and ugly I was." Tears were falling down her cheeks now, her voice clouded with them.

"He took his belt off and hit me hard with it. Twenty times on the back until I just fell to the floor." She took a deep breath, pausing. "Kicked me a few times… Then he yanked me back up and…" she stopped, looking at him. He looked back at her, a look of sadness sweeping over him for the pain she had to bare. She pulled her shirt off slowly, sitting in front of him with just her bra and jeans on. She pointed at a burn on her chest, a few of them actually. "He…" her voice wavered as she stared at him, suddenly aware she'd just exposed most of her body to him. "He put his cigarette out on me…" Jim gasped and squeezed her hand, unsure of how to react to this news.

"My mom came in then, screaming at him to get off me and to leave me alone… I was bleeding everywhere… It was awful. He picked up my mom and threw her on the ground, and that's when we heard the sirens… My sister had called the cops on him." She stopped crying now, and he knew it was because the worst part was over. She wasn't imagining him anymore. She wasn't imagining his voice or his face. She was back to just simply telling a story.

"I never really forgot that… And I knew he was wrong, in the back of my mind I did know it… But nobody ever sat me down and told me that… And I kept hearing everyone telling me to listen to my parents and to obey my parents.. and my dad had always told me it was okay to beat the shit out of people… It was expected even. As a woman, that was my job… To do whatever it is my husband, boyfriend, fiancée.." her voice trailed away for a moment before coming back. "said..

"And then a few years later, I met Roy… My dad was in prison, still is actually…" He saw her stop for a minute and mutter something under her breath that he was sure was a pretty strong expletive. "Roy was sweet and charming…. He didn't hit me or treat me badly… He was always hugging me and touching me, which I didn't really mind. I'd never really had anyone hug me or hold me before. It was new… Daddy…" She corrected herself quickly. "My dad always hit my mom if she held us or hugged us. He said it was spoiling us… But Roy did, and I don't know… It made me feel loved and accepted."

"Other than when he left me at the hockey game, he was really great… Easily the type of guy you'd fall in love with… And I did fall in love with him. I really did." Jim's heart hurt as she said this, but he knew that it was true. He knew that hadn't changed.

"And he really didn't change much the first year… He was a good guy… I was the lucky girl, all the girls in school wanted to be with Roy. But then around the second year we were dating, he started getting more manipulative… Demanding we go where he wanted to go… Wanting to be more physical, maybe a little sooner than I did… But I didn't want to lose him. So I went along with it…. I was supposed to be submissive, right?"

He knew it was a rhetorical question, but it took every bone in his body to keep him from standing up and shouting 'NO!' at her.

"And eventually he started to hit me a bit… Never bad though.. Just a slap on the face or the butt every now and then. I didn't really mind… I mean, it didn't feel good. It stung when he did it, but it was nowhere near the belt my dad used on my mom… And I thought all men did this to their women… I thought I was lucky to only have a slap on the face."

His heart broke.

"And then things really started to pick up… I told him about my family and where my dad was, and all of a sudden, he became a lot more violent, like it was his right to own me and mutilate me. He started to call me names like my dad used to… Started to hit me more, harder… He used things other than his hands. And I guess my self-worth just really deflated even more…

"I started thinking that this was it. He was the one for me. The one I was going to marry. What was different about the other relationships where people hit each other? Nothing really. I was lucky to have Roy. He was handsome. He could be charming and thoughtful if he wanted to be. I felt lucky to have him.

"And then I met you…" she said, softly, looking at him. His heart leapt inside of his chest. She squeezed his hands softly. "And it really confused me… Because I'd grown up thinking that men were dominant and should be all over women and should control them, but you were nothing like that… You were kind and thoughtful… You cared about me and what I thought…" She chuckled to herself lightly. "My dad would have called you weak."

_Your Dad's the weak one._ He thought to himself.

"Things simmered down a little bit the first few years I worked at Dunder-Mifflin… I think one time you mentioned to Roy about some bruise I had on my arm that you noticed or something... He started getting paranoid because you paid so much attention to me… It didn't have anything to do with you loving me," she looked in his eyes. "He wasn't jealous of our relationship. He didn't care, I was just property to him…" She looked down at her lap. "He just didn't want you to find out.

"After casino night, when you left… I guess he found out about it somehow. About what you said to me. I don't think he found out about what you did… When I went to go break up with him, he was really angry. He wouldn't even let me speak.. He…" she trailed off slightly and looked down at her feet. He reached out his finger and touched her chin, raising it to look at him. Begging her to continue.

"He broke one of our china plates over my head." She said softly, tears starting to fall once more. He could feel the sharp intake of breath he'd taken as he'd heard her declaration. How dare he. "Afterwards he said he was sorry. He didn't mean to hurt me. He loved me… He wanted to marry me…

"I took him back, foolishly… Because by that time you were already in Stamford. I knew you weren't coming back, and I thought… I thought you'd just let go of me when I told you I couldn't." Fresh tears were falling down his face as he realized what he'd put her through. He had thought it was painful having to move, having to lose her. He had no idea that she had been in even more pain. She'd had to deal with losing him and being horrifically abused, all at the same time. He was shaking; he was so upset.

"When you came back, he was addicted… He couldn't stop hitting me… It wasn't every day, just sometimes. It broke my heart. The one person that could always save me wasn't even paying attention… I wanted, so desperately, for you to say something to me about it. To say something to Roy. To scare him into stopping… But you kept silent."

The guilt was overwhelming him. He could hardly take it anymore. She seemed to notice and she touched his face softly, "Hey…" she whispered. "You did save me. It's okay. You came." He bit his lip and looked at her, wondering what to say, but she beat him to it, knowing she had to continue her story.

"Thursday night…" she started, trailing off, and he could tell she was trying to conjure up the images. The images of desperation, of loneliness, of pain. Those images of him beating her to the point where she was almost unrecognizable. Those images that must have been too familiar, having grown up how she did.

"I was having cramps," she started. "And I got out of bed around two to take a hot bath. Roy still wasn't home, he was out drinking, as usual. I had my eyes closed and I could feel him hovering over me, watching me with disgust. I can always feel it when he's disgusted with me." She wiped the back of her hand over her eyes, wincing as she touched her cut.

"He grabbed my foot and tried to yank me out of the tub. I hit my head on the inside of the porcelain, but he didn't care. He yanked me again, up in the air. When he realized I was wet, he jumped and dropped me. My head hit right where the bathtub hit the tile." She looked up and saw him, tears falling down his cheeks. She wanted to stop. So badly she wanted to stop, tell him she didn't have to go on, take his tears away. But she couldn't now. She needed this. She needed to continue. And he needed her to continue.

"I started bleeding, but he didn't care. He held me by my toes and dragged me across the tile. There were jagged pieces sticking up through the cracks and the cut me hard, but he didn't stop. Even when I screamed, he just screamed back. He picked me up over his shoulder and pushed me hard against the wall and he…" she stopped, looked down and brought her knees to her chest, as if trying desperately to keep from it happening again. To keep from having to expose herself again. In any way.

Jim watched her for a moment. When it looked like she wasn't going on, he finished for her. "He raped you." She nodded, and Jim sighed. He took her hand and moved her face so she was staring in his eyes. "You need to say it."

"No." She whimpered softly, shaking her head, trying to avoid his glaze. "No…" He reached up and touched her cheek, looking in her eyes.

"You need to say it." He said softly, squeezing her hand, trying to let her know it was okay to air out her feelings. He wouldn't hurt her. He was different. She could trust him. "You need to say it, Pam. It's the only way you'll get better."

She paused for a moment, her words stuck in her throat. Finally, he heard a small whisper, so quiet he was sure she couldn't even hear it, but he did. "He raped me." The words sounded like the wind. You could feel them; you could feel the consequences of them, but you couldn't hear them. You just knew they were there.

She looked up at him then, the tears falling down her cheeks fast and swift. She knew they wouldn't stop now. There was too much to cry about. Through the tears, she managed to continue, but it took her much longer, sobs interrupting every sentence. "I tried to fight back... I tried so hard, Jim… When he'd gotten what he wanted, he dropped me… Just left me on the floor. He kicked me and cursed at me for making it so difficult for him… When I opened my mouth, he picked up the chair from across the room and threw it at me… It hit me in the face and I think I passed out. That's the last thing I remember."

Jim looked at her, in awe of all she'd been through. When the last word escaped her lips, her crying stopped. It was like it had turned off. There was nothing left for her to cry over. There was nothing left for her to do. She looked up at him and gave him a weak, forced smile, but he could tell she was trying. She wanted to show him her love. She wanted to show him that she was okay. He knew she wasn't okay. He knew that she would never be completely okay with what had happened to her. But he wanted to help her. He wanted to help her get there. He desperately wanted to help her. She crawled over to him and cuddled up in his lap, her breaths deep and her eyes closed.

"Tell me something, Jim," she whispered into his chest.

"What's that?" he asked, trying not to let her hear the sobs that were permanently lodged in his throat.

"Tell me they're just jerks… Tell me not all men are like that… Tell me it wasn't me." She pleaded softly.

He leaned down and kissed her on the top of the head. "They're just jerks. Not all men are like that. It wasn't you." He looked down at her and realized she'd already fallen asleep in his arms. He pulled the blanket off the back of the couch and laid it over her, laying himself down and resigning himself to another night on the couch, holding the broken woman he loved.

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_A/N: Review!_


	7. Chapter 7

_A/N: Well, I plugged this story in my other story, and the only review I got was one saying "I already read Shattered Everythings and I love it!" so I thought maybe it might be best if I plugged Diary of A Broken Heart in here. So if you have a chance, read it. Not very angsty, but still, good._

_Hope you guys like this chapter. Came to me when watching Love Actually. Review Review! Still have no idea where I'm going with this?_

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Pam sat at reception, staring at her computer screen. It was two hours, 47 minutes, 43 free cell games and zero phone calls since she'd come into work that morning. The day had been slow and boring. She'd managed to get one fax out, but other than that and brewing a new cup of coffee, her work that morning had consisted of absentmindedly clicking, picking up and discarding cards all morning. She'd gotten sick of the repetitiveness; all she could think to do now was think about the past twenty-four hours.

She couldn't believe she'd told Jim everything she had about her life. She'd never told anyone about her father before, other than Roy, of course. It was unchartered territory—open only to her worst nightmares. It had taken her four years to even begin to tell Roy, even though they'd been dating and intimate the entire time before that. And then she'd told Jim. She'd just opened her mouth and blurted it out without even thinking about it. Granted, they'd been friends for years. Good friends. Best friends… But not the type of friends that went back to the troubles and abuses of childhood. Until now.

She'd been surprised at how he'd reacted. When she'd told Roy years ago, she hadn't even gotten the entire thing out—he'd jumped up, fists clenched, face red, mat at her for not realizing the lies her father had told her. After his reaction, she'd stopped the story, protecting herself from the further heartbreak of being ridiculed and made to be stupid. She was scared his anger would increase to such a level she wouldn't know what to do. So she'd stopped her story before she even got halfway through it and braced herself for the fact that she'd never be rid of the god awful secret she and her family had carried for so long.

But he, he'd been different. He hadn't been angry at her for believing her father's lies, he'd only been angry at her father for feeding her the lies that had ripped her apart. He hadn't been furious enough with her to stand up with his fists clenched, yelling at her about how stupid she was. How awful the situation was because of her.

He'd been different.

He'd held her; he'd cried with her; he'd listened to her, let her get it all out. Let her cry—even when it wasn't appropriate. He'd been there for her, without pitying her or making her feel stupid for believing him. He'd reassured her. He'd reached down to the deepest, darkest parts of her heart and begun to mend those, rather than just trying to patch up the surface.

She thought about how his arms had wrapped around her. How they'd held her so close. She'd felt so safe wrapped up in those arms. She'd felt as if nothing would ever hurt her again. She knew it wasn't true. She knew eventually, something would happen that would shake her to her core. It was inevitable; it happened to everything. But lying in Jim's arms she knew that no matter what life threw at her, she'd make it through. She'd be okay. She might be scarred, but she'd live. And when she got over whatever it was that hurt her, she'd live brilliantly, superbly. In a way she'd not yet lived, but was slowly making steps toward. It was with this thought that she rested her head on his chest and drifted to sleep, dreaming of him.

She'd woken up the next morning, quilt wrapped around her, a pillow where his chest had been, feeling awfully cold. He was hovering over her in his work clothes, smiling at her. She felt heat on her face from where his smile had radiated down upon her, and she smiled before opening her eyes. He smiled back at her and had whispered softly that it was time to get ready for work before disappearing into the kitchen. She'd hurried upstairs, hopping in the shower and letting the water trickle down her body, taking in the amazing feeling of a hot shower. When she'd gotten out, she'd wrapped Jim's robe around her body, smiling to herself at how good it felt to be so close to him. To have his smell engulfing her body the way it did.

She opened the door to let the steam out of the small bathroom, it was already choking her slightly, and turned to the mirror, wiping the fog off of it to stare at herself as she got ready for work. She hadn't looked in the mirror since Jim had made her the first day she'd been there and she couldn't believe that all of the work she'd put into making her face look presentable had barely paid off. She touched her face slowly, as if part of a movie when someone doesn't realize or believe it's really her face. There was still a large cut across her forehead, leading down to her cheek, cutting off only at her eye. She'd remembered hearing something in her anatomy class in high school about how the bones surrounding your eye stick out farther than the rest of your face in order to keep your eyes from popping out or being injured if something gets in the way. She was thankful for that now.

The entire right side of her face was puffy, swollen and blue. She could feel the tears form in her eyes as she saw it, knowing it had improved drastically, but not enough. She was going to have to go to work today with a face that looked like it'd been run over by a John Deere. She was going to have to face Roy with this face. This face that made her feel so hideously ugly. She felt Jim's presence and saw him leaning against the door out of the corner of her eye.

"You're beautiful," he'd said decidedly, as if he didn't want her to even think she wasn't. Her heart dropped into her stomach, pushing it out of her body. She could hardly breathe. It stung to know that he was lying to her. She was standing there, staring herself in the face knowing he'd just lied to her. Wondering what else he'd lied to her about. He knew she wasn't beautiful. Pretty, maybe, on a good day… But beautiful? Never, and definitely not today. Definitely not when she looked like this. Not with this face on. She turned and glared at him, but he kept his stance.

He kept looking at her. No, looking in her. Looking in her eyes. Looking in her soul. She could feel the walls she'd built around her heart breaking; she could feel the ice that surrounded her heart slowly melting under his gaze. She tried to keep her composure. She tried to keep staring at him with her stone cold expression, but she couldn't. She quickly looked back to the mirror, trying to hide the small sliver of a smile that was threatening to fully invade her face. She sighed and turned back at him, "What am I going to do about this?" He shrugged, pointing at her makeup. She sighed and looked at him, and they both knew it wouldn't help. Not enough to completely hide her face, or even to partially hide her face. "Maybe I just shouldn't go…" her voice trailed off.

He cut her off, "No. You have to go," he said softly. She looked up at him, surprised he was so adamant about this. "Listen, I'm really proud of you." He stopped there and stared at her for a moment, so long that it was almost awkward and embarrassing, but she got the picture. She understood what he meant. "You need to go. You need to face this," he said softly, and then he turned and left the room before she could argue.

She'd stood there for twenty minutes before she'd actually started her makeup, and then it had taken her another twenty minutes to finish it. By that time it was almost twenty minutes until she had to be at work—she knew it was a long shot. She walked down stairs and saw a plate of French toast, fresh strawberries, bacon, and a glass of milk waiting for her in her seat. She chuckled at the thought of having a seat at Jim's table, secretly delighted by it.

And that's when it dawned on her. Where was Jim? She hadn't heard anything for twenty minutes. Her heart started racing; her palms were sweaty. Had he left her? Had he really done that? Left her all alone after she'd opened herself up to him. After she'd trusted him and told him everything… Had he really just left her? Tears were forming in her eyes as she looked down and noticed her napkin had writing on it. She smiled slightly, feeling strangely stupid. Of course he wouldn't just leave her. He was Jim. Jim. Not Roy. She read the note fast, picking up on the minor details. He'd had to run out; he'd be back soon to pick her up. She smiled and ate her breakfast, waiting. When he'd finally come back ten minutes later, he'd looked winded. She hadn't asked him where he'd gone, and he hadn't told her. They just both figured it wasn't that important.

The ride had been nearly silent. She'd been lost in her thoughts of what people would think. She wasn't sure what he was lost in, she just knew he hadn't mentioned a word. It hadn't been a completely uncomfortable silence—at least between the two of them. When they pulled into the parking lot, she stayed seated. Jim did too, as if he knew what her next move was going to be. Or wasn't going to be. He reached over and patted her knee lightly, and she felt a rush of adrenaline surge through her body. She'd never felt a rush like that one. It was enough to propel her out of the car and into the parking lot. It might have even been enough to propel her inside of the building, but she wouldn't know because at that moment, Jim leaned in and kissed her softly. Their lips met and she'd never felt more wanted, more loved, or more beautiful. She smiled and they walked into the office, ready to deal with what today would bring.

Everyone had treated her pleasantly when she'd walked in the office. Michael hadn't even made any jokes or inappropriate comments. He'd simply said a 'good morning, I've missed you' and went on his way. Dwight didn't pay any attention at all, and the others just treated her as they had any other day. It secretly relieved her they hadn't brought her the attention her face obviously commanded. She didn't want anymore attention than she'd already gotten.

And that was when it happened. At 11:47, the phone rang for the first time all day. Her palms were sweaty, the blood was rushing straight from her face. She could feel her throat closing up. She hadn't spoken to anyone but Jim. She'd been silent all day. She wasn't sure if she could do it with anyone else. She looked up at Jim and he was looking at her, silently willing her to pick up the phone. She saw him watching her, and when a few seconds had passed with no movement from her, he got up slowly, walked over to the desk and picked up the phone, placing it against her ear.

"Dunder-Mifflin, this is Pam," she said, her voice coming out automatically. She looked up at him, surprised, elate, thankful for all he'd done to help her through this entire ordeal. He smiled down at her and she broke his gaze, turning back to the phone to forward Jan's call to Michael. She smiled at him after hanging up and whispered a soft thank you.

After a few more hours and a lunch at Alfredo's, Pam could feel herself dwindling down. It was nearly four o'clock, the dreaded hour that made the entire world move too slow for words. For some reason, the hour seemed to have more than sixty minutes in it. She'd just opened an email to Jim about their plans for the night when the doors opened to her left. Her body froze. She couldn't see who it was. She hadn't needed to turn around. She just knew it was him. She kept her eyes on Jim, and like clockwork, he looked up at her, caught her eye silently. He made his way over to her, the same speed as Roy made his way over to her.

Roy leaned down and whispered to Pam, just as Jim took a jellybean from the jar. "Can I talk to you? Alone?" She studied his face. It was swollen and black. His eye was especially black. She smiled inside, knowing Jim had done this to him. For some reason, it made her proud to know that Jim had loved her enough to beat the shit out of Roy. Although, she wasn't going to lie, it made her happy just to see him beat up, regardless of how it happened.

She opened her mouth to respond but she heard Jim first. "Alone at the reception desk, sure. But remember where you got that black eye." He turned and left and Pam watched him, the smile of champions threatening to cover her face. She looked up at him, aware that Jim was watching out of the corner of his eye, and quite possibly Michael and Angela as well. They always did.

Roy watched Jim all the way back to his seat, and then leaned forward and scowled, "Can you believe him? It's none of his business. Let's go." He grabbed her arm and she looked at him, pulling her arm back hard at the same moment she heard Jim cough loudly. He stared at her as if he didn't understand why she'd pull away from him… Or how she even could.

"Right here is fine." She smiled at him sweetly.

"I just…" he sighed, running his fingers through his oily hair. "Are you okay?"

She stared at him, unbelieving that he'd actually just asked her that. She didn't know how to respond. She knew what he was getting at. She wasn't going to give it to him. She glanced down at her computer, seeing a new email from Dwight. She clicked on it, opening it, and seemingly absentmindedly responded, "none of your business."

She could see his teeth grinding against each other and his fingers curling in. How dare she talk back to him. He opened his mouth to say something but she looked up at him, giving him her full attention, and sweetly asked, "Was that all, Mr. Anderson?" She'd done it. She'd given him that final notice. Told him it was over. And he knew it. She could tell by his face he knew it. He grabbed her arm and yanked her up, and she could feel Jim's gaze following her. Roy muttered something under his breath. Something about her not saying 'no' to him, especially not in public.

She felt him lift her slightly in the air and she lifted her foot up and kicked him, hard in the balls, glad she'd seen Miss Congeniality a few years ago with her little sister. She heard Michael's door open and she turned to see him, realizing that everyone knew about Roy. Her wedding. The abuse.

Michael stared at Roy for a moment, then up at Pam, and over at Jim. Finally, he cleared his throat, turning to Jim. "Jim, why don't you uh.. Take Pam home. I've got some paperwork to fill out for Roy." Pam could feel her heart growing for Michael. He really was okay. He wasn't a completely perverted asshole like she'd thought all these years. There was some decency to him. Jim nodded and picked up his bag, walked over to reception and picked up hers, and put his hand out to lead her home.

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_Review please!!_


	8. Chapter 8

_A/N: Well, here it is, the next chapter. I hope you guys enjoy. Once again, one thing led to another and here we are. I wish I knew what my ending result is going to be with this story, but I have no idea. About anything. At all. I'm like Toby, I guess._

_Thanks to those of you who reviewed! Especially the few of you (you know who you are) who have reviewed every chapter :) It really makes me happy and I write faster because of it. Hope you enjoy this one!_

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They sat on the couch eating Chinese food and watching what had to be the quintessential romantic comedy of the century. Everyone knew the movie. Even young children who hadn't heard of Jerry Maguire could quote it at ease. He knew she loved this movie; he'd bought it for her a few years ago when she'd asked to come over one night. He'd thought she'd broken up with Roy, and his plan had been to woo her into falling in love with him through Tom Cruise and Renee Zellwegger. But she hadn't. She'd just wanted to spend an hour with him. So he'd kept it.

They'd whipped it out tonight when they'd gotten home from work. Pam wasn't as shaken up about the incident at work as he'd thought she would have been, so they'd been alright to run by Kung Foo's Chinese Palace and pick up some cartons of random Chinese food. They'd come home, gotten in their pajamas, and settled down in front of the TV for a quiet dinner and a relaxing movie. Jim didn't want to admit that the slumber party he was attending was fun, but it was.

Three hours into the movie and they still hadn't seen the famous line. Apparently, Pam liked this movie so much she liked to rewind and replay parts of it, claiming that she needed to see the facial expressions, hear the tone of voice, search the background. She was such an artist, looking at every single detail about a movie that was a Blockbuster hit, but he honestly couldn't stand the constant replaying of what he thought was the worst movie in history.

And then, around 9:30, they got to the part. Renee Zellwegger in her men-bashing group and Tom Cruise bolted in, stopped everything and looked around like he has no idea what was going on or what he was doing. And then he said it, and Jim could feel his entire body cringe.

"You complete me," he heard the voice, and it felt like it was going to eat him up, it was so horrible. He couldn't stifle the laughter that was permeating up his throat, about to fall out of his mouth like rain falls from the sky. It came out as more of a howl, and suddenly, he was clutching his stomach, so aware that he was making a scene. So aware that he was laughing over something that Tom Cruise said. He knew everyone did that now, but it hit him how ahead of the game he was.

He looked over at her, and she was staring at him, tears in her eyes. He couldn't stand the look on her face. The 'oh that's so sweet' look that caused tears to form. He couldn't believe she'd bought the line; he couldn't believe he was going to have to explain why he was laughing so hard. Why he doesn't like this movie. Why it's so hard for him to believe that she likes it.

The movie ended, and just like any other romantic comedy, the guy gets the girl and the audience gets the laughs. She turned to him abruptly, "What was that all about?"

"You really don't see the problem with that line, Beesly?" he asked, staring at her. She shook her head no.

"It's a beautiful line."

"It's a fake line." He replied, shaking his head. "You would want someone to tell you they complete you?"

"Yeah," she replied, not thinking about the issue as she pops another egg roll into her mouth. "It's cute and sweet," she said through a full mouth.

"No, it's completely wrong."

"Okay, then you tell me your side of it."

Jim turned to look at her and opened his mouth, unsure of how to phrase what he was about to say. "You shouldn't need someone else to complete you. That's not a good relationship. You should be one complete person already, add another complete person into the mix, and then you have two complete people in one complete relationship, neither of them needing the other person to survive. Do you really want to give someone else the job of completing you? And for that matter, do you want the job of completing someone else?"

She stared at him, her expression blank. He couldn't read it. He knew she was thinking about it. Thinking hard about what he'd just said. When she opened her mouth, he knew it wouldn't be good. She was mad. She was angry. She was upset.

"You don't need to tell me I was wrong, Jim. I figured it out." She pointed to her face, as if to say, 'look, here are my medals of bravery'. He shook his head; she'd completely misunderstood him.

"Pam, I wasn't talking about you. I'm just saying in general…"

"Oh." Her voice softened and she settled back against the couch some more, as if to be thinking. Then her voice was timid and shy, and she asked, "Jim, do you believe there is a 'one' for everybody?"

He knew his answer would upset her. He knew this was their bad night. This was the one where everything was going to sink in. But he wasn't going to lie to her. He hadn't lied to her since he'd picked her up on Thursday morning and he knew he wasn't going to start now. Any good relationship had honest communication, and he'd seen that these past few days. Pam had been honest with him with what she could, and he'd been honest with her about everything. Now wasn't the time to break that streak, especially over something that he believed was big.

"No, I don't." He said, looking at her. He reached his hand out for hers, but she pulled it away. He didn't completely understand why she was so upset. He thought she would be upset, what with his direct disagreement with her ideas. But could it be she was actually hoping he would say yes? Maybe she was hoping that she was it.

"Can I tell you why before you get way upset with me?" he asked, and she looked up at him and nodded slightly, as if she was trying to push all of those feelings of upset away. He continued, "I think it's just a little… I don't know, heartbreaking to believe in the one. It's like saying that you have to meet, fall in love with, and marry the one person that was made for you, or else you'll never amount to anything and you'll never be loved… I mean, what if someone else is stupid enough to take your one? Then you're stuck… I believe there is a right one… I mean, I believe you can fall in love, get married, have babies and grow old with a variety of different people, some who are right, some who are wrong… I just think the aspect of having a 'the one' is a little too much."

She nodded slightly. "Have you ever um, thought you found a right one? I think that's what you called it."

"Yeah." He said softly, reaching for her hand once more. She didn't flinch or pull back this time, she just kept it where it was. When he held it, she looked up at him and smiled softly. "You're having a hard time understanding why anyone would ever want to love you, aren't you?" He asked.

She stammered. He knew he'd hit her right on. She was obviously doubting. Doubting herself. Doubting him. Doubting the decisions she'd made with Roy. He touched her face softly. "Pam."

She smiled. "You're going to tell me, aren't you?"

He laughed. "I wasn't planning on it… I was just going to tell you that while there are a lot of reasons for someone to love you, true love doesn't need a reason."

She paused, taking the statement in. He could see the wheels turning in her mind. "So, what's you reason?" She asked, smiling.

"I don't have one," he replied, as if he'd known the answer forever. She looked up at him and smiled, before scooting closer to him and letting him wrap his arms around her.

"So, you don't believe that anyone can complete anyone else, you don't believe in the one, but you believe you've found your true love."

"Sounds kind of hypocritical, doesn't it?" He asked, laughing. She nodded and laughed into his chest. "Well, I chose for you to be my one true love. That wasn't fate or destiny; that was choice."

"And yet, you've hardly made a move on me since I got here." She said softly.

He smiled and ran his fingers through her hair. "I've been putting the moves on you. They're just a different kind of moves."

She smiled, "Oh?"

"You're not ready to go have sex with me, are you?" He asked, in mock seriousness.

"Wh.. What? No… Not really." She answered, embarrassed and looking down.

"Exactly." He said softly. "I don't want to pressure you. I don't want you to feel like that's all I want because it is not. So my moves have more been trying to knock it into your hard-headed skull just how much I'm in love with you."

"Just how much are you in love with me?" She asked playfully.

"I don't really know how to answer that," he replied, intertwining his fingers with hers. "I just don't know where in love stops and where it begins with you."

She smiled. "Jim."

"Pam," she could hear the smile in his voice as he said her name.

"I know I said I don't want sex… And I really don't want to be… physical, I guess… But, I don't want to lose you…" He cut her off with a finger to her lips.

"Hey." He said softly. "You can't lose me. We're going to give you time to get okay with everything, then we're going to date, and kiss, and get married, and have babies, and grow old together and die in each others arms."

She smiled up at him. "That sounds…. amazing."

He smiled back at her, kissing the top of her head. It was silent for a few minutes, before he heard her voice again. "I really need to call my mom, I think."

He nodded. "I think you probably do too. The phone is in the kitchen. You can take it up to our room if you want, or I can go up there and you can take the call down here." It hit him all of a sudden how effortlessly he'd said our room. Their room. His and hers. Both of them. He hoped he hadn't freaked her out.

"I think I'll take it in our room," she winked, smiling. She got up and kissed his cheek, walking away as her fingers slowly slid out of his grip. He watched her walk away, and for the thousandth time this week thought to himself how perfect this was. How right this seemed. How much everything just seemed to fit when it was with her.

* * *

She sat on the bed, phone cradled in her hand, the bedspread up around her knees, waiting for her mother to pick up on the other end. She looked around the room, taking in the blue and green striped décor Jim had apparently become fond of. She could feel her head shaking as she took in all of the "decorations" he'd put up, such as Phyllis' penguin and a collage of other artifacts, including her prize-worthy yogurt lid. They would have to redecorate. Their room was such a bachelor pad. She gasped as she caught herself thinking these things. This wasn't her room; it was Jim's. She didn't live here. She had her own house, her own room.

She was interrupted by the click on the other line and her mother's voice, "Hello?"

"Hi Mom, it's me," her voice seemed shaky, even to her.

"Pam! How are you, honey?" her mother's voice, although a bit groggy at first, seemed to lighten when she recognized who she was speaking to. Pam couldn't help but smile at the realization that her mom wanted to talk with her. It was as if she'd come to the realization that her mom loved her in that one instance.

"Mom, I love you." She said softly, curling up in the bed and smiling. They hadn't done this before. Pam hadn't realized how much she loved her mom before.

"I love you too." The words seemed so effortless to Pam, just as they had when Jim had spoken them earlier. They weren't some sort of revelation, or some sort of placeholder in conversation, they were just there. They were as sure to her as her name was. She just knew it was true. The words were everyday conversation, and although they meant a lot and their meaning changed their relationship entirely, there was no thought before uttering them. No nervousness. She realized how much she'd missed out on.

"I have some news," Pam started. She didn't wait for her mom to reply before she divulged into the conversation. "I'm not really sure how to start it, but I broke up with Roy. He'd been treating me horribly… How Dad used to treat you… and then the other night he just took it too far, Mom. And I was lying there beat up and broken and then Jim showed up."

"Jim." Her mom said, a little bit of a crack in her voice. "Jim from work? The one who was in love with you."

Pam nodded, knowing that the nod couldn't transfer through the phone lines, but at the same time, knowing her mom knew her actions, what she'd been doing. "Is, Mom. The one who is in love with me. I've been staying at his house so I wouldn't have to see Roy, and we've been talking, a lot… I told him about Dad."

She could hear her mother take a deep breath and she waited, unsure of whether or not something was going to come out. "Pam…"

"No, Mom, I needed to tell him. I've kept it inside for so long, and it's been eating up at me, and it's really screwed me up… And my relationships and what I expect out of them, and I just needed to tell him… You have no idea how amazing he's been the past few days… I felt like he deserved to know… No… I felt like I deserved to tell him."

"Pam…." Her mom said again.

"Mom." Pam said, cutting her off. "He really, he's just been amazing… I mean, the guy has been in love with me for five years, and I've put him through so much hell… He sits here and tells me he's okay, he loves me, he doesn't want anything more for me than what I can give him… Do you know how strange and foreign that is to me? Roy was never… He was very take, take, take… It was all about him… With Jim, it's different. He cares about me.. For me… And not just because of sex or hot wings or any of that. Because of me…"

"Pam…"

"Do you know what he said to me today, Mom? I asked him why he would ever love me, and do you know what he said? He said that real love doesn't need reasons. Reasons cheapen real love… And he didn't have any reasons. He just loved me. That's what he said, Mom…"

"Pam…" Her mom waited for her to finish gushing. When she finally felt like Pam had stopped, Pam heard her say softly, "I'm glad you finally told someone, sweetheart. There's no reason for you to have to carry that by yourself."

"Really?" Pam could feel the tears in her eyes forming.

"Yes, honey… We all need someone to help take away our pain. Even you. You've always been my stubborn, sarcastic little fighter. But you still need somebody to help you sometimes." Her voice softened. "Why didn't you tell anyone what Roy was doing to you, baby girl? We could have come and kicked his ass. You didn't need to wait for him to kick yours…"

"I guess I just thought it was a sign of weakness…" Pam trailed off. "And I didn't realize it wasn't normal… After you and Dad."

"Sweetheart, it's not normal. Not at all. It's horrible and completely degrading. Your Dad and I… Well, I was stupid. I should have left the first time he raised a hand to me, but I had four beautiful daughters with him. And I loved him because he gave me you girls. I'd made a vow to him, and back then, a vow was something you couldn't break, no matter what he was doing to you. The day I saw him hurt you like he did, that's when it was over. It might have been something we were all accustomed to, but it wasn't normal, Pam. It's never been normal… I'm sorry I never told you that."

Pam could feel the tears falling down her cheek again. "It's okay, Mom," she said softly. "I look a little rough, and I feel horrible, but I'll be okay… Some good will come out of it."

"It has," Pam corrected herself. "Mom, I really think I'm in love with him… It's not just the pain talking or the past few days. I've been in love with him for a long time."

"I know you have, baby. You never talked about anybody the way you talked about him. Just be careful. Don't jump into things too fast."

"Mom, he's not going to hurt me," Pam said, somewhat annoyed her mother would even suggest that, even though she knew it wasn't ludicrous of her to do so.

"That's not what I was worried about. I don't want you to hurt him." Pam could feel her heart stop as she thought about the prospect of possibly hurting Jim. That's not something she wanted. That's not something she ever wanted. She would gladly go back to Thursday morning's fight if it meant Jim would never be hurt again. She would take that over and over again for him, no question about it. "Just, wait until you're ready to be in a relationship with him. You don't want to have to back out while you're in it when you could have waited. It's much more painful."

Pam nodded, "okay Mom." As her mom turned the conversation to Christmas and her sisters, Pam thought about all that had transpired in the past few days. She'd let go of so many things, been broken down to her core. All of the dark parts of her soul were slowly being shed; the feelings of doubt, guilt, and insecurity were disintegrating with every conversation she had.

She thought about a project she'd done in eighth grade. There had been a huge project on cells in her biology class. It was a three-part project—the first part was to dress up like a part of a cell on Halloween, the second part was to create an edible cell, and the third was to create a model of a cell. Her model had been made out of Legos left over from her childhood. She'd spent three days on it, but the morning of her project, as she was walking out the door, she'd accidentally ran into the garage freezer; her project had crashed in pieces. She'd had to rebuild it that morning on the bus and in all of her classes, and finally when it was time for her to present, her Lego cell was taller, stronger, and more true than it had been before.

Right now, sitting on Jim's bed, she felt like that project the moment it hit the freezer. All of the pieces had been scattered and she'd been leveled, but she could feel the pieces coming back together as she realized the truths about love. As she let go of the misconceptions she'd had and focused on the accuracy of the situation. Slowly, but surely, the pieces were being placed in the right locations. She knew she wasn't there yet, but soon enough, it would be time to present herself to those around her. And when she did, she knew she would be taller, stronger, and more true than she'd ever been before.

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_Review, please!!_


	9. Chapter 9

_A/N: Here it is! The next chapter. This one feels really different to me than the others, but I hope it's a good different and not a "the magic is gone" kind of different. Let me know if the magic is gone. I just felt this is where my characters were leading me. I feel this story wrapping up pretty soon, which is amazing because I think I started it like a week and a half ago, and I never write stories this quick, but this one just seemed to blossom. I am really glad it's not a one shot. I like it the way it is now._

_Please review and let me know what you think! To those of you who have reviewed faithfully thus far--THANK YOU! You're the reason I keep writing as fast as I do, rather than ignoring the little Pam/Jim in my head saying "hey do this!"_

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Pam sat at her desk watching him. He was so cute, sitting there watching his phone like if he willed it enough it would ring. She had to chuckle to herself watching him. He was so different at work than he was at home. It was almost like there were two different Jims. It wasn't that she didn't fully appreciate and adore the one at home, but the one at work was the Jim she knew the best. Sometimes, when she got the chance, she liked to just stare at him, marveling at how he could look the same, yet act so different. 

At work, Jim tended to care less. He was a bit more flighty with what he did and tended to speak out of turn more often. He was more boisterous, if boisterous was the right word for Jim. At home he was careful, reserved. He let her take the lead. He listened to her, let her talk. He was kind, considerate. She'd fallen in love with Office Jim, but she thought, maybe, if she was given the chance, she could fall in love with At Home Jim too.

It had been two months since he'd rescued her, and she'd felt more alive today than any day before. Last night, they'd watched Office Space, which was probably one of Jim's favorite movies to watch after a long, hard day at work. She remembered watching the scene where Peter was talking to his psychiatrist, and he said that every day he was living the worst day of his life. She'd thought as she was watching it how miserable his life must have been, when she was reminded that had been her life just a few months ago. It seemed odd to her that now, every morning she woke up she was living the best day of her life.

And she knew a lot of it was thanks to him.

She could feel how much she was changing. Every day seemed like a new opportunity, a new chance for her to learn something and change her ideas about the world. She'd felt so liberated over the course of the past few weeks. It was as if all of the walls of lies that had been built into her system had come down. They hadn't crashed down. They hadn't left her feeling weak and empty. But it was as if the bricks from the walls had been taken down one by one, leaving her feeling lighter, able to fly and ready to take on the world.

Her eyes were still fixated on the side of his head when she saw him rise. Her breath caught in her throat a bit, and her mind raced. She could feel blood rushing to her cheeks and she quickly looked down at her keyboard, unsure as to why her body was reacting the way it was. Okay, so she knew why it was…

He leaned over her desk, grabbing a jelly bean from the jar and popping it in his mouth. "Hey," he said coolly and she looked up, trying to keep her smile from invading her face. "I had a question."

"Shoot," she said, looking up at him.

"Would you like to go to dinner with me tonight?" He asked. Her heart raced, but she was sure he was just asking like he always did. Every night.

"You mean like we do every night? Um, sure."

"No, I mean, can I take you out to dinner tonight… On a date," he clarified, twiddling his thumbs. She looked up at him, a huge smile forming. She could feel her heart rate speed up and the color coming back to her cheeks again.

"Of course you can. You have to pick me up, though." She said, teasing him.

"Okay, well… I'll pick you up at seven…" He said, turning to walk away. Not a second later he turned back around and winked at her, "in the living room."

She smiled and watched him leave, unable to believe he had seriously just asked her out on a date. They'd had lengthy conversations about the two of them dating. He'd told her countless times he was in love with her and had made it so obvious what his intentions were that she could hardly believe he hadn't already asked her down the aisle. She'd told him a few times that she was ready to date him if he asked. She wouldn't say no. He'd told her he was going to wait to ask her until he felt she was ready. She'd argued with him about it then, but he'd seemed adamant. He didn't want to rush her into a relationship. Her mind drifted back to the Jerry Maguire scene and she smiled, realizing that he was waiting for her to develop her status as a complete person before asking her to be a part of his incomplete life.

She heard her phone buzz on the counter, and she looked over at it, unsure what to think. Hardly anyone called her at this hour, and the last time she'd gotten a text message had been a while ago. She opened her phone up to see a text message from a mysterious caller known as Phat Halpert. She laughed to herself, knowing he must have reprogrammed his number into her phone last night. She read the message silently to herself: Wear something that makes you look beautiful. I guess you have limitless options.

She smiled and looked over at him, not surprised to find he was looking right back at her, grinning like a little kid on Christmas.

* * *

Pam stood in front of the mirror, curling her hair with the iron she'd picked up a few days ago on her trip to Target. She hadn't gotten any new hair or makeup supplies for over a year since she and Roy had been saving for the wedding, but with Roy out of the picture and a new man in her life, she'd thought she could splurge a little. Not that Jim would care what she looked like, he'd made that quite obvious, but every now and then she wanted to look nice for him. She'd decided that in light of this being their first date, she'd fancy herself up a bit more. 

She smiled at herself in the mirror. She was wearing a light green sweater with dark brown pants. She had a scarf wrapped around her neck, green, brown, red and blue striped, and her hair was down, the curls ending right past her shoulder. She'd done her make-up and taken special care to make sure she looked for Jim how she would if he'd asked her out and they didn't live in the same house. She felt a bit more of a pressure to dress up for him. He'd done so much for her these past few months, she wasn't sure how to thank him.

She put her diamond earrings in, letting out a small grunt when they stabbed her ear in the wrong place. She wrapped the bracelet he'd given her years ago for her birthday around her wrist, smiling as it glistened in the light. Roy had never let her wear it. She wasn't sure why. It was only a cheap little bracelet you could find on the shelves of a department store, but still, she loved it. She smiled at herself in the mirror, giving herself a quick check before leaving the small adjoining bathroom she'd called her own for the past few months.

She glanced at the bedside clock and smiled. 7:15. Of course she was late, she was the girl. If Jim was a man at all, he would know that 7:00 meant he should be there then and expect her between ten and 20 minutes afterwards. She slipped her shoes on and grabbed her jean jacket, slipping it over her shoulders before starting her walk downstairs. She noticed Jim sitting on the couch, staring at the fireplace as if he hadn't seen it before. Suddenly, he turned, watching her, and she thought she saw his mouth open slightly, yet no words came out.

He stood up, wrinkling his pants and walking over to her, offering his hand to her. "Flowers for you, milady," he said and bowed a little. She let out a small giggle, taking the flowers for him and smelling them. Daisies. The happiest flower, she knew. She took in a deep breath of them and took one out, placing it behind her ear.

"Let me go put these in water," she smiled, letting go of his embrace and running to the kitchen. She thought how strange it was to have flowers. Nobody had ever given her flowers before, even Roy in the many years they'd dated had never given her flowers. She took one last sniff of them before setting them in a vase and placing them on the kitchen table. She then returned to Jim, trying to hide the smile that had become so natural in the past few weeks.

He smiled and took her hand. "You look…" He trailed off, as if he was unable to find the right word. She stared up at him, knowing what he wanted to say, but still daring him to say it. "Beautiful?" he tried. She continued to stare at him, trying to keep her grinning under control. "Stunning? Ravishing? Delectable?" A soft laugh escaped her lips as he opened the door for her, leading her to his car.

She'd become used to this Jim that opened doors for her. The one that was a complete gentleman at all times, regardless of how he was feeling or how horrible she was acting toward him. It was still strange to her, watching him and remembering her dating experience. She'd never had anyone open the door for her before Jim. It wasn't that she wasn't capable, it was just a nice gesture on his part. She couldn't stand those women who always complained about how they were able to open their own doors and it was sexist t allow men to do it for them. Sometimes, she liked it when a man played the hero and she got to be the damsel in distress. Sometimes, not all the time.

She stared out the window, silently thinking about her life up to this point. She thought about how everything was so connected. She thought about how even the horrible moments of her childhood had prepared her for right now. How simple things like her favorite color or where she lived had completely altered her life. She thought about how everything led to something greater, and she was so excited that they'd led her to Jim.

Her thoughts were interrupted by his voice. "What are you thinking about?"

"You really want to know?" She turned to him, smiling. She knew he did. She just liked to hear him say it.

"Of course," he replied, hands on the wheel. She loved how carefully he drove with her in the car. She knew he drove fast and dangerously when she wasn't there, but he had always told her she was 'precious cargo,' and he wouldn't dare put her at risk.

"I'm thinking… that it's so fascinating how everything is connected… In life, I mean… It just doesn't seem to be a complete coincidence."

"What do you mean?" he asked, and she could feel her heart racing and her mind processing information over and over again.

"I just keep thinking… I was born into this family with this horrible father who taught me to be submissive and hated having kids around so he sent me to this summer camp every summer, where I met Roy… Then Roy was a jerk and got me to apply for a job at Dunder-Mifflin which led me to you which led me to break up with Roy, which puts me in this car right now. And wherever this car takes me is going to change my life, hopefully, and then maybe some day I'll tell my kids about…" she trailed off, knowing she was going way into the future, into territory they'd had yet to even begun to bridge. "…this part of my life, and maybe somehow that will influence them and…" she was getting excited now, jumping up in her seat thinking of the prospects of what everything being connected meant.

"And you think it's all too… coincidental for it to have just happened," he finished for her, looking at her.

"Yeah." She said, chewing on her thumbnail, thinking. She was staring straight ahead, almost like they were in one of those road-trip movies where all you could see was the blue sky over the hills and the farm animals mooing in the background. But she wasn't staring into that. She was staring simply at the road ahead of her, cars buzzing by and green lights and red lights. He loved how she could bring the simplest of all life into the business of any day.

"I tend to agree," he said, turning into the restaurant where he'd planned on taking her. "Is this alright?" she nodded and he smiled, running around to her side and opening the door for her, helping her out of the car. He led her into the restaurant and they were seated quickly. He handed her a menu and she took it, opened it and looked at it for a moment before she started talking again.

"You haven't told me much about your family yet," she said softly, looking at him. He smiled and started to tell her when the waitress came by.

"You know what you want?" he asked her, and she looked surprised. He wondered what the Bambi look was for until she opened her mouth.

"You mean I get to pick?" she asked, and he laughed softly, nodding. She looked down at her menu quickly, her eyes lighting up. "I've never gotten to pick on a date before…. Mmm…" Finally she ordered and it took all of his might to stifle his laughter at how cute she was. He couldn't believe she was 27 years old and had never picked her own meal out on a date before. The surprise in her voice was both adorable and sad.

"So, tell me about your family," she said softly.

He laughed, unsure of how to even begin. "Well, I have two sisters. Julia's older and Jenna's younger. My parents really liked the J names…" She laughed and thought back to the pictures on his fridge.

"Charlotte and Anna are Julia's, right?" She asked.

"Yes. They're both married. Julia got married a few years before she had Charlotte and Jenna was married last summer… You might remember me talking about the wedding. I was in it, but I was looking for a date."

"Oh, right… I almost volunteered," Pam said softly. "Too bad I didn't."

He smiled at her and continued. "Julia is only two years older than me, and Jenna's a baby. She's only 20. I was always closest with Julia growing up. I was the pesky little brother that stole all of her friends and took them on dates." They laughed lightly, and then he continued. "My parents only wanted two children. Dad wanted all boys; Mom wanted all girls… Then they got into some fight about something and Mom decided that the only way to solve it was to have another baby. The sex of the baby would determine who was right. And then Jenna came along and from then on, Dad was wrong… I'm not really sure how it all worked… Now, I'm actually pretty sure that was crap…" He laughed and she smiled at him.

"Do you want kids?" she asked softly, taking a sip of her water out of nervousness.

"I do. I don't want them with the wrong person, though… But yeah, if it's with the right person, I'd love to have kids." She smiled, unsure of how to respond to that. "You?" He asked.

"I absolutely want kids," she replied softly. "I'm not sure how to elaborate on that, I just… It seems so natural to me, to want kids. But it's something I've only wanted recently… When I was with Roy, I never wanted them. Now all of a sudden I do."

He smiled at this. He knew what she meant. It was only with her that he'd ever consider having children.

"Well, I'm sure you'll get them." He replied, before continuing. "So, my mom sold staplers and my dad sold three hole punches…" She kicked him under the table and laughed.

"Tell the truth." He smiled at her, unsure how to continue with this great revelation.

"Okay, my Dad was a salesman at this company, I can't remember the name. My mom was the beautiful secretary, or as you say, receptionist, that he worked with for years. He was engaged, she was madly in love with him, broke up the wedding, they got married and have lived happily ever after."

"You're joking." She said softly, looking down at her plate.

"Nope." He replied, reaching across the table and taking her hand. "Why do you think I'm so sure we'll work out?"

"Work out?" She asked, looking up at him.

His heart raced. He was about to put it all on the line. Not that he hadn't done it before, but it was different, doing it on a date. They were dating. They were in a relationship now. This could actually happen, and he was scared of how she'd react. It was really soon, after all. "You know... The whole shebang. Me proposing to you romantically, a quiet wedding, us riding off into the sunset, having lots of babies together, raising them in a house with a terrace, watching them grow up, get married, have babies. Growing old and dying in each others arms… Work out.. Like that."

He looked up at her, scared to see how she'd react. He was pleasantly surprised to find the wide smile on her lips, her eyes slightly glossy, and a look of absolute love planted across her face.

"Okay." She replied, and he smiled, knowing the conversation was over. Nothing more needed to say. All he needed to hear was in that okay, and all she needed to say was in it as well. He smiled, knowing that it was going to work out. She broke his concentration by continuing.

"You know what I was thinking about today?" she asked.

"What?" He replied, sure it was something that was going to make him laugh at how adorably funny she was.

"You know all of those couples that were friends first and then they break up and they're not friends anymore? The damage was too much?" She asked and he nodded, unsure how he felt about where this was going. "I can't imagine you ever doing something to me that I wouldn't want to be your friend afterwards," she said, nibbling on her thumbnail. "I just think we can survive anything."

He smiled. "That's because we already have," he said softly. She smiled up at him, holding his gaze for a moment.

"Can I ask you something? It's going to be awkward," she broke the silence.

"I love awkward," he said, his face dead-panned.

She laughed, and he smiled. Hearing her laughter always made him happy. There was nothing that could happen to him that her laughter wouldn't fix. "Um, my house…" She said, and he knew immediately where they were. "I just… With Roy gone, I can move back now."

"Do you want to move back?" Jim asked, silently hoping she would say no. He'd foolishly hoped they'd just keep going the way they were, not having to talk about this, just both of them accepting that their life was together, not apart.

"I don't want to impose on you," she said.

He shook his head, "You're not. You're welcome to stay with me until the day you die. Maybe even a bit after." She smiled, and he could tell she was thinking.

"You're not just being kind, are you? Because, really, Jim, it's no problem for me to move back. If you want your house back, it's totally fine." She looked down, and he could tell she was almost expecting him to redact his offer. To tell her he wanted a bachelors pad. To tell her he wanted to be alone in his own house; he didn't want to have to worry about her.

"Pam, if I wanted you gone I would have said so. I like having you there. I'd be fine if you never left. I don't want you to leave, but if you want to, it's okay."

She sighed. She hadn't meant to hurt his feelings, but she could tell she kind of had. "I don't want to leave, Jim… I just wanted to make sure that's what you wanted before I went off and sold my house."

He looked up at her, grinning. "Really? You're thinking of selling it?"

"Well, what good does it do me to pay a mortgage on it if I'm just living with you?" She asked, smiling. "Might as well make some profit off of Roy being a jackass." He laughed along with her, both of them completely enjoying each other, the topic of Roy not stinging a bit.

"What are you going to do with the profit?" he asked her, smiling.

"No idea." She said, laughing through a mouthful of her chicken pasta. "Any suggestions?"

"Just one." He replied, smiling. "Hold on to it. You might have a wedding to pay for someday soon."

She watched him as he ate, smiling. He'd really just said that? Soon? And he hadn't said she might be engaged soon. He hadn't said she might get laid soon. He hadn't said she might be married soon. He'd said she might have a wedding soon. Something Roy had never wanted. He'd wanted the sex, and however he could get it, that's how he'd do it. He'd wanted to control her and to own her, both legally and emotionally. He'd never wanted a wedding. He'd never wanted to stand up and publically announce his love for her. And while Jim hadn't said when her wedding was going to be, she could feel he meant what he had said. It would be soon. And while he hadn't said who it would be with, she was positive he had meant it would be with him, too.

* * *

_Review please! The second half of that was definitely not what I expected to happen, but I really hope you liked it! Let me know if you want to hear more about Jim's past, or if you just want to skyrocket forward, or whatever. I'll make it happen, maybe ;) _


	10. Chapter 10

_A/N: Okay, so not at all where I expected to go here, but once again, Jim and Pam just lead me and I'm a follower. It's kind of scary that I'm following fictional characters in my head, but hey, what can you do? I'm debating letting this chapter be the last because I think it sums up a lot of the change Pam has undergone, but I really hate when stories end with sex as the cure-all because it's totally not. And sex is not the epitome of a relationship that is great and lovely--it can cause so much brokenness and hurt, and sex isn't love, which I think a lot of people relate it to. Which is why I've never written the smut stories before--I just don't like them. But, Pam and Jim do, so here you go, my first ever smut and I hope you enjoy it for more than just the sexual manifestations in it._

_Thanks for the reviews, please review this chapter too. Like I said, it might be the last chapter. Probably will be, but perhaps Pim/Jam will inspire me a bit. We'll just have to see._

_Warnings: Smut._

_Disclaimer: Not owned by me... At least the names aren't._

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They were sitting on the couch, watching Jerry Maguire for the second time in their relationship. She was aware how different the scene was this time. She wasn't battered or bruise, she was just lying on the couch in his arms, his fingers running through her hair. She was nestled into his chest and she could feel his heart beating. She'd remembered hearing something in school about how when you hold hands with someone, your hearts start to beat in sync within three seconds. She marveled at how with Jim, it seemed all she had to do was look at him for their hearts to start beating together.

She felt something on the back of her head and smiled, knowing it was Jim's lips against her hair, his way of softly reminding her he was there, holding on to her. She glanced down at her feet and smiled when she saw how intertwined with Jim's they were. She couldn't even see where her leg began and where it ended, so integrated with Jim's own. She loved nights like these. Nights where they could just lie on the couch, nothing substantial happening, and just be together.

She loved that about their relationship. They'd been friends for so long that they could just sit in silence, completely okay with not doing or saying anything. She loved that they knew each other so well. She was sure Jim could pry into any of her thoughts at that moment, and she didn't mind. She wanted to share everything with him, even the uncomfortable, awkward things that had once been so ingrained inside her and so hidden from the world she wanted him to know.

It had been a year since she'd left Roy. A year since she'd realized she was in love with Jim. She couldn't say it had been a year since she'd realized how deeply in love with him she was. It hadn't been. She knew she was still falling deeper and deeper in love with him every day. Every smile he flashed her way, every bowl of cereal he poured for her, even every fight they had only strengthened her love for him.

She'd never felt more valued or appreciated than when she was with Jim. With Roy, she'd always felt like she was simply a trophy that he could show off to his friends, evidence that he was getting laid. With Jim, it was different. There was something else there. He was proud of her, and he was proud, more than she'd ever seen him, of being with her. She could tell by the way he talked about her to his friends, the way he protectively put his arm around her and brought her closer in public. It wasn't in an ownership way at all, not like Roy had done it, it was in a proud way, as if to say, 'Look how great we fit together. Look what I found.' She loved the way he made her feel. As if nothing in the world was better than her.

She could tell how deeply he cared for her and her feelings. With Roy, everything had been mechanical, sexual. With Jim, it wasn't so. It wasn't that Jim didn't want to have sex with her, it was that he was waiting for her to be ready. It had been almost a year since they'd started dating, and he'd held out. He'd been holding out since he met her. Not that he hadn't had sex since he'd been at Dunder-Mifflin, but he hadn't had good sex. His omission, not hers. She wouldn't tell him, but she was kind of nervous about it.

She'd only had sex with one man, and it was Roy. It had been good every now and then, but deep down, she knew it wasn't all sex could be. She couldn't understand the hype of sex when she was with Roy. Sure, she got her orgasms, but that was just three seconds of heaven. The rest was mostly chore. Toward the last few years of their relationship, sex had become something that wasn't talked about. Roy let her know, in words or in other ways, when he wanted it, and she obliged, wanting to make him happy. Or at least wanting to get him off her back. Eventually, it'd gotten to the point of where it was the night Jim found her. Quick, painful, and satisfying only to him.

She was sure Jim wasn't like Roy in that department. Just the fact that he'd wait for her was enough to convince her of that. But she didn't know. She wasn't sure what sex looked like out of the unfriendly picture Roy had painted for her the past ten years. And more than that, if it was what sex really looked like, she didn't want to taint her relationship with Jim by bringing that mess into the equation. She was conflicted between the overwhelming urge to take him, to love him, to show all of herself to him in the most intimate ways and to completely bare her soul to him and the fear that she would be rejected, that it would be horribly unsatisfying and dangerously repulsive.

She felt his hand on her hip and he tapped her lightly and she murmured. "Hmm…" He smiled down at her, she could feel it even though she couldn't see it on his face.

"This is our part," he said softly. She smiled. He always knew when she was out of it. She grinned as she saw Tom Cruise bolt through the doors of Renee's house. She could feel him start to sit up, waiting for that monumental moment. She scooted off his lap, sitting next to him as they watched Tom Cruise make a complete fool of himself.

"You complete me," they heard him say, and they looked at each other skeptically before erupting into fits of laughter. She could feel her stomach getting pains from laughing so hard, and he was having trouble breathing.

"I can't believe you…." He started through fits of laughter, and she knew where he was going next. Back there. Back to that night where she had said she thought it was cute.

"Oh shush, I don't believe it anymore," she said, silencing him with a kiss. She could feel the laughter bubbling out of her and she giggled into his mouth, pulling away softly. He laughed at her, smiling. He smiled back at her, running his fingers over her cheeks and pulling her back for another kiss.

"I'm glad I converted you," he said, smiling.

"Me too," she replied, settling back against him. He turned the movie off and looked at her, willing her to look around. She stared at the TV for a few seconds, seeming to enjoy the silence that had fallen over them. She turned to stare at him, their stomachs touching slightly on the couch. Her mind was reeling. He was so beautiful. She loved every bit of him. She would give up any part of herself to be with him, to make him happy. And the thing she loved most about him, is he would never ask her to. He would never ask her to give up any part of her. He would just be there for her, love her as she was. She didn't have to be anyone different.

"Pam," he said softly, and she smiled, suddenly aware that everything she wanted was holding her, laying next to her, breathing with her. She nodded at him. He bit his lip for a moment, which she knew was his way of telling her that what he was about to say was serious. Important.

"What is it, Jim?" she asked softly.

"I love you," he replied, and she smiled, leaning up to kiss him.

"I love you too, you big goofball." She smiled and he laughed. She could feel his stomach vibrating against her own and she giggled. "Was that all that serious lip biting was for? Just an I love you?"

"Nope." He smiled at her, and she looked at him quizzically. "I was wondering how you would feel…" he trailed off, maintaining eye contact with her and he touched her chin, making sure she was looking at him. "I love you. There's just nothing more I can say to preface this than that, but there it is. I love you, and I want to marry you. And I know I've told you that a million times before, but now I'm asking… Will you marry me, Pam?"

She was nodding. She wasn't willing herself to do it, it was just happening. As if her body knew so much what her heart wanted that her mind wasn't even able to contemplate it. She wasn't even thinking. She knew if she was, there would be the same result, but she was lying on the couch with the man of her dreams, nodding at his proposal. Thinking how beautiful it was. And then she opened her mouth to say yes. To tell him how much she loved him. How much she wanted to spend the rest of her life with him. How perfectly he fit her. How he was all she ever wanted.

But that's not what came out. Instead, a high pitched giggle erupted out of her, and she was unable to contain it. She was giggling against his chest in her infectious way, and he was watching her, laughing. She could feel him laughing. She was laughing like he hadn't seen her laugh in so long, a rolling on the floor type of laughter, except she was on the couch, trying not to fall off, which only made her laugh harder.

"Mmm. Our future is hilarious," he said, and she continued to laugh, harder and harder until she was gasping for air. When she'd finally settled down, she smiled and looked up at him.

"Sometimes words just don't work, you know?" she asked, and he smiled, running his fingers through her hair. He nodded and she smiled up at him. "I guess I never gave you an answer, did I?"

"Well, you laughed. I'm not sure how to feel about that." He said, a lopsided grin on his face. He knew he had her. He knew what was coming. But he felt compelled to ask again, "Will you marry me?"

She smiled, and at first he thought she was going to be serious, but it seemed she was in a silly mood that wasn't planning on escaping her anytime soon. "Does Dawson have a creek? Does Dwight have a Bobblehead? Am I wearing a blue shirt? Is Tom Cruise corny?" She laughed again and he joined her. And then, she seemed to lose all of her sillyness for the time being and she looked up at him and smiled. "Will I marry you? Absolutely, I will."

He smiled as he slipped the ring on her finger. He could feel his heart flying. His entire body seemed to be flying as he contemplated his future with her. She leaned up and kissed him, wrapping her arms around his body and he felt like he could stay there forever and not move at all.

Pam's mind drifted back to her last proposal. Her first proposal. It had actually been extremely romantic, especially for Roy to pull off. She'd been 22, five years after they'd started dating. She thought he might have gotten the idea from a movie or TV show. Maybe he'd asked his mom or one of her sisters. Either way, she knew it didn't come from Roy's imagination or desire to please her.

He'd taken her to a fancy French restaurant, Chez Pierre, where a normal lunch was in the $20s, meaning dinner was in the $40s individually. He'd ordered her favorite wine, let her have whatever she wanted for dinner, and even bought her favorite dessert. Afterwards they'd taken a walk around one of the most beautiful lakes in Scranton, and then he'd dropped down to one knee and proposed. She remembered how happy she'd felt, but she also remembered that there had been a nagging voice in her head screaming no. She'd said yes anyway.

Jim's couch proposal was so much more romantic than Roy's well-planned out one. She marveled at how that could be.

She touched Jim's cheek softly, staring into his eyes. She could see a hunger there, a desire, and she knew it was for her. It made her blush slightly, seeing him look at her that way. Seeing how much he loved her, seeing how much he wanted her. And he didn't want her the same way Roy had years ago. He didn't want to just use her for his own purposes. She wasn't sure what it was, but there was a difference in his eyes. He wanted to show her something. She wasn't sure what it was, but she was eager to find out.

She leaned up and kissed him, softly, sucking on his lip lightly and pushing her tongue into his mouth, exploring his. He kissed her back, hard, his hands running up and down her sides, pulling her closer until she was on top of him, pressing hard against him. She sat up lightly and cocked her head to the side, smiling at him before kissing his neck, first quick pecks, then long, slow, open-mouthed kisses. She sucked on his skin a bit and then blew over it softly, smiling as she heard a soft moan escape him. She pushed her hands up his shirt and felt around, taking in the smoothness of his chest, the soft curls of his chest hair against her hands as she roams, her hands grazing his nipples and she sighs softly into his neck.

She pulls on his shirt and he lifts his arms in the air. She kisses the waistline of his pants, leading a trail up past his stomach, over his chest and to his mouth, pulling his shirt over his head as she does. He looks at her, grinning, trying to read her. He can feel her hands all over him, and suddenly, he thinks it's not fair. It's not fair that she gets to touch him, but he can't touch her. He lets his thumb trace patterns on her hip bone and then he moves his hands up under her shirt, cupping her breasts in his hands lightly. He squeezes softly and he hears her moan, so he runs his thumbs over her erect nipples, thinking how beautiful she must look to feel that wonderful in his hands.

She reaches her hands under her shirt and grabs his, bringing them out and placing them on the buttons of her shirt. She leans into him and nibbles on his ear lightly, moaning softly into it. Suddenly, he realizes where this is going. She sits back up and takes his hands, helping him undo the buttons and he knows he has to say something. He has to talk to her. He's getting dangerously close to the point of no return.

"Pam," he says, and his voice is husky with arousal. She looks at him and grins, and as much as he wants to kiss her, to pull her in and watch her come for him, he knows he can't. Not without making sure she knows. "I didn't propose to you because I wanted sex."

"I know," she states, and kisses his neck again, nibbling on it lightly. She sucks on his adam's apple and he can feel his heart racing, the breaths coming faster, shallower. She runs her hands down his chest and pushes them through the waist of his pants, gasping when she feels him hard beneath her. She's never felt him before, and he feels so good in her hands. She squeezes lightly and he smiles, his head falling back slightly. She pulls her hands out and unbuckles his belt buckle, unbuttons his jeans and she kisses. First at his belly button, then in a soft trail down, pulling the zipper with her teeth to get better access.

He has no idea where this is coming from. He has no idea when Pam became this girl. This girl that is wild and provocative in bed. She has no idea where she came from either, but she knows it has to do with her desire to feel every bit of him, to hold every bit of him. To taste him. She pulls his pants off and then slips her hands under his boxers, moving her hand up and down, delighting in the sound of his soft gasps. He moans her name and she looks up, surprised to hear it on his lips.

"Come here…." He says softly, and she scratches her nails against him as she drags herself against his body, her mouth up to his. He pulls on the drawstring of her pants and she lets them fall to the floor, so she's sitting on top of him with nothing but her panties on, completely aware she's never been this exposed to him before, except for that night when he rescued her from herself. He runs his fingers over the line of her panties and then lets his thumb dip lower. He pulls them off quietly, and she sees his eyes go wide as he looks at her, his fingers running through the soft, curly hair. He pulls her closer to him and sends his hands between her thighs, feeling the softness of her. She's so wet, and it turns him on more than anything has before. He rubs his thumb over her clit and he feels her hips rocking softly, but she's not coming yet. He whispers in her ear, "tell me what you want." He hears her gasp softly and she looks at him with a smile so laced with every emotion he couldn't even begin to dissect it.

She whispers into his ear, "faster…" He obeys and pushes his fingers inside of her. He can hear her gasp as he does. He rubs his finger against her and she's moaning his name, softly at first, until she throws her head back and it's all he can do but not come himself. She leans down and whispers in his ear when she's done coming. "I need you. Now."

He flips her over on her back and smiles, taking his dick in his hand and pushing it against her opening lightly. He makes his way into her, and he can see her grimace lightly, and he stops, scared he's hurting her, but she nods at him to continue, telling him she wants him. She needs him. He pushes inside her as far as he can, kissing her, trying to take away any of the pain she might feel from it. She's kissing him back, telling him to go back and forth and he does, slowly, surely. He could have gone faster, it would have helped him come if he went faster, but he knows it's not just about him, it's about her too.

She's rocking her body against him, and he touches her face, bringing her eyes to look at him as he pushes and pulls inside of her. Soon, he feels her closing in on him and letting go, and he knows she's almost there. He moves faster inside of her, and she calls his name loudly, her nails digging into his back as her back arches and she's pressed against him, every bit of her touching him. He calls her name a second later and can feel himself reaching the top. His climax seems to stay longer than it ever has before, higher than it ever has before, and then it's gone. He settles against her, his breathing heavy on her skin and she moves his fingers up to take his hands in hers, lacing her fingers with his.

He takes her face in his hands, kissing her softly, still inside her. She doesn't ever want him to pull out, it feels so good. He fits perfectly inside her, and she loves the feeling of being complete. She can feel him so much a part of her in that minute she can hardly stand it. He's touching her cheek and she's so sensitive to it, she feels as if a simple kiss could bring her to orgasm again. He kisses her softly, wrapping his arms around her and he looks her up and down. She smiles shyly and he grins back at her, placing a soft kiss on her cheek. "You are so beautiful," he tells her, and all of a sudden, tears are coming down her cheeks. Falling fast, falling hard.

He notices and it hurts him to see her crying. He thinks for a minute that he hurt her. He went too fast, and he can't believe he was that insensitive to her. He can't believe he treated her the way that he did. He can feel his voice closing in inside of his throat when he apologizes softly, "I'm sorry…"

She looks up at him, touching his cheek. She runs her fingers through his hair, the tears still falling fast down her cheeks. "You have nothing to be sorry about," she says, the tears flowing freely but a smile plastered across her face, the kind of smile nobody could get rid of even if they tried. "That was… perfect." She says softly, and he smiles, knowing how she feels. "I never… Wow." She can hardly finish her sentence; she can hardly start her sentence she's so mesmerized by him. How beautiful his body is. How wonderful he is to wait for her, to take his time with her, to ask her what she wanted. Suddenly, it occurs to her why she's crying. She's crying because he's so perfect. He's so amazing. He's everything she always dreamed about in a man that everyone told her she couldn't have. And she's so sure of his love, so sure of their future, that all of her tears are falling out of ecstasy, out of the knowledge that she is so utterly happy, so utterly in love, that there's no way she could ever be anything different.

"I'm so in love with you," she says softly, staring into his eyes.

He smiles and stares back into hers, bringing his thumb to her eyes to wipe away the tears that are forming, "I'm so in love with you too," he says, and she reaches her thumb up, and it's her turn to wipe his tears away.

They fall asleep naked in each other's arms, both keenly aware that they just had the best sex of their lives, and both knowing without a doubt that it was not even close to the sex they would have in the future as they learned to explore each other's bodies, each other's souls. Her engagement ring feels light on her finger, a finger strong from carrying the weight of another's engagement ring years ago, and she knows without a doubt that this time it's different. He's different. They're different. And there's nothing better than being naked, completely exposed and transparent in his arms.

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_And that's that, folks. Review, please!_


	11. Chapter 11

_A/N: Pam and Jim have spoken. Two more chapters after this one. So, be prepared for it to settle down. Probably no more angst, just the little fluff that I like to write, but I am not so good at. Hopefully an idea for another story will come in my mind soon. I've been neglecting my stories to write this one... But I hope you enjoy. Doubtful next chapter will be up before Tuesday._

_Also, Thanks for the reviews!! Oh, and I've posted two new stories since the last chapter. One is called An Outsider's Look, and it's a factual explanation to the mystery that was Pam and Roy, and why Pam left him. The other is called Dead Inside, and it's really angsty. Read if you want :)_

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He wakes up to the sun coming in through the window, and the part of his body not covered by the sheets feels hot, almost as if he's standing right under the sun. He reaches his arm out to touch Pam, but groans when he finds her side of the bed cold and empty. He opens his eyes, yawning, and looks to his left where her body had been the night before as he fell asleep. The sheets are scrunched up and there's a bit of an indent from her body on the bed, but if someone hadn't known they'd been sleeping together already, they wouldn't have known by staring at the bed. The only remnants of her was a slight spot on the pillow from her drool and a few strands of her golden-brown hair.

He sat up quickly, wondering where she was. His ears were used to listening to her. His senses had become so attuned to her in the past year that sometimes he wondered if they even needed to talk—their communication was amazing without it. The sheets fell off him as he sat up, and he was suddenly very aware that he was naked in his bed. He remembered the night before. The proposal. The yes. The kissing. The making love. The tears. He remembered how perfect it had been. At least on his side. But now she was gone, and he wasn't sure what had driven her to leave him laying in bed at ten in the morning.

He got out of bed slowly, pulling some boxer shorts out of his drawer and slipping them on his body, pulling them up to his waist. He scratched his head for a moment, looking around the room, taking in the sight of their discarded clothes, left in a hurried pile on the floor. He picked up her clothes and held them in his hands, smiling softly, smelling them. He'd never liked the smell of sex before. Perhaps it was because he wasn't used to smelling body odor. It wasn't something Americans were particularly fond of. However, sex brought a whole new odor. Of all the girls he'd been with, none of them had smelled good.

But she had. Her sex smell was so good and pleasurable he wanted to sell it to a perfume store. He couldn't have got enough of it if he tried. He smelled her clothes lightly, smiling slightly at how pleased he was that he had turned her on so much that her clothes still smelled like sex the morning after. And that's when he noticed it. Held to the mirror by a small magnet was a piece of paper. Her writing was covered in it. He wondered what he had to pick up from the drycleaners this time. He should have thought to check their special place. That's where they always left their notes to each other. Once, she'd forgotten the paper and just written on the mirror with her lipstick. He hadn't wiped it off for days.

He walked into the bathroom slowly and pulled the letter off the mirror, smiling to himself as his fingers ran over the words, and he smiled at the thought that she had touched the paper too. Not very long ago.

Jim-

I remember when I was little I used to talk to my husband all the time. I never knew who he was or what his name was, I would just start talking to him. He and I would have tea parties and play with Barbies and roll around outside. We giggled all the time. I remember one time, in specific, when there was a really big meanie that I didn't like named Johnny. Me and my husband plotted revenge on him. I can't remember what it was, but it was really good. I guess when I met you I should have realized you would be the man I would marry. After all, who else would seek revenge on a boy with me, other than you?

I'm telling you this story because I want you to know it's always been you. You've always been the one that I've felt most comfortable with, the one that caught me when I fell and pushed me toward my dreams. You've always been my knight in shining armor. Whenever I pictured my wedding and my future as a little girl, it was always you I pictured. Not your face, but you.

I know we don't talk about my past very much, and believe me, I don't want to start talking about it more. I've come to grips with it, and I'm okay. I've moved on. But someone once told me that you can't appreciate where you're going unless you know where you've been. By someone, I mean Hitch. I used to imagine my house with a terrace. It worked out a lot the way that Noah builds Allie her dream house in The Notebook. I know you've seen it, so shush. A quiet man, desperately in love with me, builds me a huge house with a terrace in order to still the throws of love and bring me back to him. But you never needed a terrace.

I hate being engaged. When the abuse set in with Roy, I told myself that if I ever got out of that relationship, I was never going to be engaged again. I wasn't going to get married. It was too hard and too painful. I was in that relationship for so long that there was no code of normalcy for me to depend on. All of my thoughts and views about relationships and marriage came from that one broken relationship. I know you remember the night you found me, too vividly. I haven't told you this before, but I almost didn't get up and call you. Part of me really wanted to lie there on the ground and bleed to death. Die from the cold. Whatever it was. Part of me just really didn't want to survive the night. What did I have to look forward to?

For some reason, I'm not sure why, I called you. Why you, I have no idea. You were the first one that popped into my head. Before my mother, it was you. Just like it had always been. From the time I was a little girl and my only friend in the world was my imaginary husband. And you came for me. Picked me up, brought me home to you, and began to teach me about how amazing life can be.

Jim, I owe so much to you. I know you're shaking your head now as you read this, claiming that you didn't do anything, but you did. You really did. I had been miserable for so long I didn't know what happy even began to look like. It was a foreign concept, an unattainable goal. How could someone like me ever be happy? And then you came. And you showed me what happiness meant. You showed me what love really was, Jim.

I'd had this idea that love was a grand gesture. It was sex, or it was calling someone "sweetie" or "dear." And yes, it is all of those things, but it's so much more. It's having hope in someone. It's knowing that you'd rather be with someone than without them. It's the feeling of watching someone you know change into someone better. And you taught me all of this. You taught me what it means to truly give yourself over, without giving up your dignity. How to truly love someone else without letting them have all of the power. And I owe so much to you, for that.

I know that the phrase I love you will never come close to describing how I feel about you. How much my body and my soul ache for your presence. How sometimes, I just want to surround myself with you because being with you is oxygen. I can't breathe when we're not together, and I love that feeling. The feeling of depending on you. Of knowing that there is something bigger than you or I respectively.

Thank you for last night. I know you've been waiting for it for so long, and so patiently. I never once felt rushed or pressured into having sex with you. I appreciate you letting me take my time. It wasn't that I didn't want it, Jim. It's that I was scared. I was scared it might ruin our relationship, change the dynamics, do everything to us that it did to Roy and I. I should have known better, but I didn't. I do now, though.

When I look at you, I see more than just the face of a man that rocks my world (you do… Oh boy, you do.) I see my life, staring back at me. There is so much hope and future in your eyes, and I know that there is so much I have left to discover with you. So many experiences we will share with each other. I can't wait. I can't wait to see the beauty life brings us. Our wedding day, our honeymoon night, all of the nights we'll spend together, laughing because we can't figure out the dishwasher or because I burnt dinner. The moment we'll find out we're pregnant, seeing you take our daughters out on dates and showing them how a man should treat them. Seeing you teach our sons how to play sports. Watching them grow up under our eyes and crying together when they go to kindergarten, have their first dates, take the keys to our car, graduate, and go to college. Watching our children get married, and our grandchildren being born. You getting irritated because you can't find your dentures. Me needing you to rub cream on my foot because of my arthritis. Being picky and irritable, but knowing that we spent more than half of our lives together. Dying with you in my arms. I think of all we'll do and accomplish. The fights and those moments of pure bliss. And I know I've never wanted anything more than you, and a life with you. I hope you know that.

Right now, though, I'm out getting ready for the next phase of our life together. My mom and I are shopping, looking for the perfect wedding dress. You know how much I hate being engaged, right? Does April work for you? I'll be the girl, walking down the aisle in a long, white dress, smiling as she stares into the eyes of the man she's dreamed about since she was a little girl. We're shopping, getting stuff for the wedding and you have no idea how excited I am about it. Planning a wedding never seemed this fun. Meet us for lunch at Cugino's, okay? Noon.

Also, you never told me you asked my mom if you could marry me. You old softy, you. No, but seriously, thank you. It meant a lot to me.

I love you. Always and forever.

-The next Halpert

Jim smiled as he folded up the letter. He'd never quite gotten a love letter from Pam before, but he thought he might be able to get used to it. He walked over to the nightstand on his side of the bed and opened the small drawer, placing the letter inside. That's when he noticed the Christmas card. The one from years ago when he'd drawn her name in Secret Santa and decided to tell her how he felt. He'd stole it back from her later that night as she'd searched through her teapot. The teapot that sat on his stove, holding water right now. He smiled as he thought of that, how he'd always dreamed of it and would until the day he died, but it wasn't really a dream. It was reality.

He pulled it out and set it on the bed, knowing there was a reason he'd kept it all these years. He glanced up at the clock, cursing softly as he realized he would be late to meet Pam and her mom for lunch. It was already 11:30; he'd overslept. He pulled his jeans and a t-shirt on, ran a brush through his hair, and looked at himself in the mirror. He looked somewhat sloppy, but Pam's mom had seen him a hundred times before. He didn't feel the need to impress her, or Pam, with a fashionable entrance.

It was fifteen minutes past noon when he arrived at Cugino's. He could see Pam and her mother sitting in a far corner, laughing. He could only see Pam's back, but still, he had to smile when he saw her. Even from the back of her head she looked happy and in love. He smiled as he thought of her. How in love with her he was. How miserably, painfully, delightfully in love with her he was.

He'd never really wanted to get married. He'd always dreamed of being a bachelor until the day he died, living the life and having sex with multiple women, maybe even multiple women at one time. But then he'd met her, and his empty dreams of meaningless sex, meaningless relationships, and a meaningless life had seemed to flee instantly. The moment he saw her he knew he wanted to marry her. Wanted to wrap her in his arms and hold her, even if that's all they did. Wanted the house with the terrace, the kids that looked like her, the joy of making love with her and her alone. He wanted it all, and it hit him so forcefully as he looked at her back that morning. He had to smile. He had the overwhelming urge to just run up to her, engulf her in his arms and never let go.

He made his way toward the women, silently motioning to Pam's mother not to mention he was there. He stood behind Pam, covered her eyes with his hands, and kissed her cheek. He watched her smile and he could feel her eyelashes brushing against his hands softly. "Hi," she whispered, and he knew she was relishing in the feeling of being in love.

He kissed the top of her head and took his hands off her eyes, smiling. "Good morning Star shine." She laughed and he patted her head before turning to her mother and giving her a huge hug. He smiled as they embraced, before sitting down to lunch.

They sat in a comfortable silence, each of them taking sips from their drinks before Pam piped up. "Baby?" He smiled, she'd never called him that before.

"Yes Pumpkin," She grinned, staring at him, her eyes locking with his in such a way that neither of them were aware that anyone else existed for a moment.

"What do you think about April 25th?" she asked softly, chewing on her bottom lip. He smiled. He knew what she was really asking, but he wasn't going to let her get away with asking such a wide opened question.

"I would have to say it's my idea of the perfect date because it's not too hot, and it's not too cold. All you really need is a light jacket." He grinned as Pam's mom laughed, and Pam giggled, swatting him on the arm.

"I hate you," she said, laughter in her voice.

"Hmm, that's too bad because I love you." She smiled.

"I love you, too."

"I thought you hated me, Beesly."

"Don't call me that!" She said, smiling. "I want to get used to my new name."

"Which one?" He asked, teasing her. "Fabio?"

She giggled. Her mother was trying desperately to follow the conversation, but it seemed that every time she got an idea of what they were talking about, they threw her for a loop again.

"I'll make you a deal," Jim said. Pam eyed him carefully, before nodding. He continued, "I'll stop calling you Beesly on April 25th if you promise you'll wear a pretty white dress and sign your life away to me."

She smiled softly, and he could see she was trying to keep a straight face, but the grin was too powerful, it was overtaking her. Suddenly, the smile was the biggest one he'd seen in a long time as she reached her hand over and took his, her engagement ring glistening in the sun that came in through the windows.

"Deal," she smiled, her eyes lighting up. He took her hand and held it, running his thumb over hers, knowing he'd never want it any other way.

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_Review please!!!_


	12. Chapter 12

_A/N: Here we are, the wedding day. I swear, I never know what I'm going to write for this story! I thought it was just going to be the last 1/4 of this story and then all this spilled out. Oh well, we'll see where it leads. Haha. I DO know that next chapter is the last one, and it's going to be freaking awesome. I'm not entirely sure what it's going to be, but it will be good. Review, and it'll be up faster. Thanks for all of you who review, especially those of you who review every chapter. You know who you are, and I am so incredibly grateful!!_

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She sat at the salon, her hair up in curlers and her nails spread out under the fluorescent lighting. Next to her, her sisters were laughing about how they used to do this kind of thing when they were kids. Her mom was watching them, laughing along, even though it was obvious they were making fun of how they group up. They were recounting stories of all four of them, huddled in their room in one bed, matching pink curlers in their hair and flannel pajamas on. Pam remembered the giggles and laughter that she was sure echoed down the hall whenever they had one of their famous slumber parties.

They didn't happen much when Pam was younger. Mostly, they happened after her dad had left, or on the nights when he was gone drinking or beating other people up at the bars. But the nights they did happen were special. She knew even then, when they were little, that she would remember them forever. And she had. Part of her wondered if those special slumber parties were the reason her three sisters were her bridesmaids. Other than Angela, there really was no one else she would have even considered.

She couldn't believe today was the day. They were here, at the salon, getting their nails painted and dried, their hair done professionally. In just a few hours, she would be slipping into her wedding dress. It seemed surreal to her, the idea that she would be getting married. For so long, it had been a close goal, but an unattainable one, as well. Now, all of a sudden, this goal was turning into reality. Her dreams were finally coming true. She could hardly believe it was happening to her.

She was marrying the man of her dreams, and she knew that it wasn't anything either of them were taking lightly. The night before at the rehearsal dinner they'd stolen away for a few private moments and had a really good talk, one of those talks that seemingly only came around a few times a year on a special night. But it was there for them. They'd walked outside to go sit and talk, and it had seemed like the world had stopped still. He'd wrapped his arms around her, as they were both so used to, and she'd settled into him, like a child settles into her mother's lap when she goes to sleep. He'd started talking, telling her all about how much he loved her and couldn't wait to marry her, and she'd agreed, telling him the depths of her feelings.

He'd said something then that had caught her off guard. He'd told her he would never leave her, no matter what she did. She'd been startled he had that kind of devotion and love for her, not because she was startled it existed but because she thought she was the only one that believed as she did. And there, sitting on the grass in his arms, they'd made the first rule of their marriage. They'd taken the word divorce out of the dictionary and vowed that, come rain or shine, they would truly be together forever. They'd pinky swore on it, and they'd both smiled, knowing that a pinky swear was stronger than any other type.

"PAM!" she heard her sisters giggling, and for a moment she resented them for pulling her out of the daydream that had entangled her for the past few minutes. She smiled, noticing they were all ready to go. Her curlers had been taken out, and someone had moved her hands from under the lights, and she hadn't even noticed. Her mom was reaching her hand out to help her up, and Pam found herself taking it, unsure of where exactly they were going, or what they were doing.

Driving back to the church, she felt a rush of butterflies overwhelm her, and she knew they were good butterflies. These weren't the type of butterflies you got when you did something wrong; these were the butterflies you got from the excitement that only came with knowing you were doing something right. She smiled, letting her hand rest on her stomach as she tried to keep them hidden within her. Butterflies were good. She liked butterflies.

She felt her phone vibrate against her leg and she smiled, pulling it out secretly so her mother and sisters wouldn't see it. They hadn't allowed her to have her phone with her last night at the party, and they certainly would have disapproved to her having it tonight, but alas, here she was in the car ride home, her phone vibrating against her leg, and even through the vibrations, she knew it was him. Her Jim.

She grinned to herself, sneaking it out of her pocket and turned toward the window, pretending to gaze out it. She opened her phone and looked down at the screen when she felt it fly out of her hands and into pink polished fingers, and she couldn't help but deflate.

"EMILY!" she yelled at her younger sister, knowing she wasn't really mad. She was giddy from knowing that he had even thought to send her a message, and she couldn't believe how excited it made her. "Emmy! Give it back!"

Emily smiled sweetly at her, opening the phone again and opening the text message, sharing it with her sisters in the backseat. Pam sunk down in her seat, thoroughly embarrassed by how cheesy her sisters would think she was. "What does it say?" she asked, crossing her arms and staring out the front windshield, daring herself not to break contact with the trees in front of her.

"I can't do this." Emily replied with a straight face. Pam jerked her head up and looked at the rearview mirror, the faces of all her sisters looked shocked. Her lungs felt like they were closing in, and she could hardly breathe.

"What?" she managed to choke out, knowing her voice was faltering. She couldn't believe it. How could he? In a text message? At all? What kind of asshole was he anyway? She reached her hand back at Emily violently. "Give me my phone." She sneered.

"Gee, Pam, chill out." Emily said, popping the piece of gum she had in her mouth. "I was only kidding. Its all about your sex life."

Pam's eyes went wide and her mother coughed, nearly swerving off the road. The girls in the backseat giggled, and Pam took the phone out of Emily's hands quickly, glaring at her. "You want to sit in the pew?" She asked, narrowing her eyes. Emily's eyebrows shot up and she sunk into her seat quietly. Pam turned to face straight ahead, giggling inside of herself. Teenagers.

She opened her phone, glancing at the text message, her heart racing to see what it said. What could he possibly have said about tonight? What could he possibly have thought was smart to text message her? My gosh, was the man an idiot?

She glanced down at the screen and saw the raunchy, dirty, unspeakable thing he'd texted her.

_FINALLY!!!!!!_

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She could feel a smile forming, and she bit her lip, trying to suppress it, but to no avail. She couldn't have said it better herself.

He sat in the foyer, Charlotte and Anna each sitting on his lap. They were staring up at him, and he was having a hard time deciding who to look at, they were both gorgeous. He couldn't wait until he and Pam had kids of their own. He wanted girls. He didn't need boys, his heart would always go out to the girls. He knew Pam wanted at least one boy, though, so he might oblige. But really, he wouldn't be upset if all he got were girls.

Anna was begging him, "Teww me a stowy, Uncle Jim! Teww me a stowy!" Charlotte was scolding her younger sister, telling her that now wasn't the time, that Uncle Jim was too busy for stories.

Jim looked at Charlotte for a moment, his eyes wide. "Not the time for stories? Are you kidding me?!?" he asked, feigning shock that she would ever insinuate such a thing. Huge smiles lit up Charlotte and Anna's faces as Jim settled into his chair, beginning the story of a lifetime.

"Once upon a time, in a land far, far away…" He started, but was interrupted by choruses of "Where? Uncle Jim! Where?"

He laughed, "I'm getting there," he said, pulling the girls closer. "Settle down." He continued. "Once upon a time, in a land far, far away called Mifflinaria, there was a beautiful princess named…" Crap, he couldn't think of a name.

"Name her Bewwa, Uncle Jim," Anna said, looking up at him with her big blue eyes. He laughed.

"…There was a beautiful princess named Bella. Bella was the prettiest princess in all of the world. She wore very pretty dresses, and her hair was done up in curls, and she had the prettiest smile." He tapped Charlotte's nose lightly, and she giggled. "And ever since she was a little girl, she'd been best friends with a little boy named…"

"Uncle Jim, you really should start remembering their names!" Charlotte said, giggling. "It's obviously Joshua."

"I was about to say that, Charlotte." He smiled. "She'd been best friends with a little boy named Joshua. And Bella and Joshua loved to play in the dirt and they really liked to play pranks, but everyone thought they were being mischievous."

"What's dat?" Anna said, her brow wrinkled.

"Um, it means that they were playful in a not good way."

"Oh." Anna said, putting her finger to her chin and nodding a few seconds later.

"But Bella and Joshua loved playing together, so they didn't let anyone stop them from doing it, even if people did think it was naughty. But one day, they received terrible news."

Charlotte and Anna's faces went wide, their eyes taking in the shock of something being so detrimental to the princess and her prince.

"Back at that time, a princess had to marry a prince, but Joshua was just a poor boy, he was no prince. And so, since the princess was of marrying age, her parents forbid him to see her."

"Noooooooooo," Anna squealed, her eyes looking sad.

"Yes." Jim replied, pushing the hair out of her face. "Bella and Joshua were separated and told they could only play with people that were in their same social class." He turned to Anna, "it means people that had the same amount of money as they did." She nodded, glad he'd interrupted his story to tell her what it meant. "So years went by, and Bella and Joshua had to sneak around their parents and everyone so they wouldn't know they were still friends.

"Bella's parents arranged for her to marry a big, bad prince. His name was Roy. He was ugly and big and was very, very mean to Bella. He found out she was still playing with Joshua and ordered her to stop, and when she didn't, he hurt her."

Anna and Charlotte's faces all of a sudden got sad. "I don't like this story, Uncle Jim," Charlotte said.

"It get's better." He replied, patting her head lightly, but not wanting to mess up her curls. "So, Joshua knew he was very mean to her, so he told Anna that he loved her and wanted to marry her. She told him she couldn't because he was just a poor peasant boy, but she still ordered that her wedding with Roy not happen."

"Good! He's a meanie pants!" Anna said, and Jim couldn't help but chuckle at her words. Yes he was.

"Well, At the same time, Joshua's parents had found him a peasant girl to marry, but she was kind of weird and mean. Not friendly at all. And he didn't really like her. He went along with the engagement, though, because he didn't think he could ever have his Bella."

"What happened?" Charlotte asked, and Jim wasn't sure how to continue without hurting his nieces.

"One day, Bella was in trouble. She'd run away from home because her mother and father wouldn't let her marry the person she wanted to. Joshua found out about this, broke up with his fiancée, and chased after Bella."

Charlotte was smiling now and Anna was getting excited. They were both shouting now, "Then what? Uncle Jim, then what?!?!"

He laughed. "Joshua finally caught up with Bella, and when he did, he told her about how much he loved her and wanted to be with her. He was scared she'd reject him again, but he told her anyway. And this time, she didn't reject him! Instead, she kissed him!"

Anna's eyes went wide. "Like Seeping Booty!"

Jim chuckled. "Yes, like Sleeping Beauty. And then one day, Joshua asked Princess Bella to marry him, and they had a beautiful wedding with lots and lots of food, and then they grew up and had babies and ruled the world. The End."

Charlotte and Anna giggled. "That was a great story, Uncle Jim."

Jim laughed, "I'm glad you enjoyed it. Now, go scamper off and get ready, Uncle Jim is about to get married!" He grinned at them, his eyes wide as they jumped off his lap, giving him small hugs. He stood up, looking down at himself and grinning as he saw the wrinkles in his clothes. Bella was going to kill him.

* * *

He couldn't see her from where he was standing up at the altar, but he could feel her. He smiled as he looked out at all of their friends and family. In the front row sat Michael, grinning like an idiot (his usual grin), his arm around Jan. Dwight was cuddled next to him, trying his best to be appropriate, which was a hard feat. Angela's head was resting on his shoulder slightly, and when he caught her eyes, she smiled at him. He could hardly believe she'd smile, but he knew she was proud of them, in her own way. She and Pam had become friends recently, and seeing as she was one of the only ones in the office that knew the entire story, she was one of the happiest for them.

He saw his sisters sitting in the pews, their arms intertwined, not knowing what to do with their husbands in the back. Julia gave him two thumbs up, and he couldn't help but laugh. He glanced around at everyone else, knowing that today was perfect. Even amidst the wedding chaos that had engulfed them in the past few days, everything had turned out perfect.

The music started, and he could feel Pam's nerves on the back of his spine. He closed his eyes lightly, picturing her fluffing her dress in the back of the church, grinning. He smiled as he thought of her, and all of a sudden, he could feel his heart beating out of his chest, softening at the notion that she was finally, completely his.

He watched her sisters walk down the aisle, each of them holding on to his brothers-in-law, giving him a wink or a slight nod of approval. He smiled as the ring bearer came, and smiled even bigger when Charlotte and Anna walked down the aisle, throwing petals of flowers. His heart leaped inside of his chest as he remembered the order from the night before. After his girls, _the_ girl came. The girl of his dreams. Everything he ever wanted.

They reached the end of the aisle and simultaneously blew him kisses and he smiled and brought his hands to his chest catching them and winking at the girls. Everyone in the congregation laughed and he blushed lightly, knowing Pam was probably wondering what the laughter was. And the he heard the music and she stepped out to where she could be seen, and it was as if time froze and the world around him was spinning, and the only thing still was him, staring at her, watching her smile and the twinkle in her eye as she clutched onto his father's arm to steady herself.

She walked slowly toward him, but with each step, he appreciated her more. He loved her more with each rose she stepped over, each sideways glance she gave him. He saw the tears start to fall down her cheeks, and soon she was hiccupping. He couldn't hear her, but he could see her, and he knew she was trying to stop it but she couldn't. Tears were falling down her cheeks fast, and it was all he could do not to run out to her and hold her in his arms like he had. He looked her in the eyes and smiled, and he could feel her clutch his father's arm, though she wasn't near him and he didn't move his eyes at all. She smiled at him, and he reached up and touched his heart lightly, knowing nobody in the room saw him because all eyes were focused on her.

She reached her hand out as she got to the front, and he reached his out. When their fingers touched, he felt a jolt of electricity surge through him, as if he was being awakened from a lifetime of sleepiness. He smiled at her and she smiled back, her cheeks glistening with the tears. She turned to his father and smiled as he lifted her veil and kissed her forehead softly, and he heard her whisper a slight 'thanks, Dad'. He smiled, knowing that her family was his now, and his was hers.

The rest of the ceremony was a blur. The vows came quickly, easily, each meaning their words but knowing they were just that, words. The real vow would be their years together, basking in the glory and crying together in the times that weren't so good. The rings were exchanged, each of them trying to get used to the new weight of their hands, but holding on to each other for support. The prayers, the silences, the sweet looks. And then the kiss came. She'd told him exactly how she'd pictured her wedding kiss. She didn't want it long and powerful, but she didn't want a measly peck on the lips either. He'd twiddled his thumbs in nervousness all day, hoping he could get it right. When he kissed her, he'd lifted her veil, trailing his finger over the side of her face softly, then cupped her face in his hands and leaned in and kissed her softly, longer than a peck, but shy enough that nobody would accuse them of having sex on the altar. When he broke away, he saw her smiling at him, her eyes not looking away from hers, and he knew he'd done it right.

They'd been announced as Mr. and Mrs. Jim Halpert, and he'd heard her squeal beside him, and he looked down at her, laughing to himself. He'd squeezed her hand and they looked at each other for a moment, before racing down the aisle to the claps of their family and friends. When they'd made their way to the back of the church, he pulled her out of the doors and into the garden and kissed her lightly, smiling against her lips. She looked up at him and smiled, wiping a tear from her eye.

"I never thought I'd find you," she laughed through the tears, wrapping her arms around him and pulling him into a hug. He wrapped his arms around her and smiled.

"Surprise?" She giggled against his chest and he smiled, leaned down and kissed the top of her head. "Can I tell you something?"

"Anything," she murmured.

"I want to shove cake in your face, Mrs. Halpert," he grinned.

She looked up at him, surprised, as if she'd just realized that was her name. She beamed and kissed him on the cheek. "You can shove cake anywhere you want, just keep calling me Mrs. Halpert."

He laughed, "Okay Mrs. Halpert." He took her hand and squeezed it before pulling her into his arms and kissing her one more time.

* * *

_Review! And tell me if you don't just LOVE Anna and Charlotte? I mean honestly. They're based off two of the girls I nanny for. So cute! _


	13. Chapter 13

_A/N: Well, folks, here it is. The last chapter. It's bittersweet for me because this is one of my favorite stories I've written, and to see it end is both sad and amazing at the same time. I've learned a lot writing it, and I think it has challenged me and changed me as a writer, so that's a great thing. I hope you enjoy it---Please tell me what you think! Oh, and fair warning, this chapter is about twice the length of the others, so yeah._

_Don't own their names. Flashbacks in italics._

* * *

Jim sat at his desk, quietly staring across the room at his wife of twelve years. She'd changed so much since the day he'd met her almost twenty years earlier, and yet, she was almost exactly the same. Her hair still clung to the sides of her face in curls; she still played solitaire on the computer all day long, and she still called him Halpert, even though it didn't hold the same punch now that she was one as well. She had more lines in her forehead, a few wrinkles in the corners of her eyes. She was staring out into space, pushing her newly acquired glasses up on the tip of her nose.

She looked up then and noticed him staring and smiled lightly before mouthing a playful, 'What?' He grinned and shook his head, averting his gaze from her and down to the picture frame on his desk. They'd gone to the beach one afternoon and cuddled up on one of the beach chairs. He'd noticed about ten minutes into the cuddling that the sun had drained her and she was asleep, buried in his chest. He was squinting into the sun in the picture, his hand on her face trying to shield her from the sun's evil rays. Someone had snapped a picture, and there it sat on his desk, seven years later.

Lately, things hadn't been as rosy as they were in the first part of their marriage. He knew why. She knew why. But they both knew that they loved each other and that was larger than any fight, disagreement or disappointment they had, even this one. And this one was huge. It had characterized their relationship for the past seven or eight years, and it had almost become a way of life for them, being disappointed day after day, week after week, year after year. He knew why the wrinkles were in her forehead, and why her heart was so heavy lately, yet there was nothing he could do about it. He was so utterly hopeless he wasn't even sure how to make himself better, let alone her.

They'd been married twelve years and still no kids. It wasn't for lack of trying. They'd started trying the day Pam turned 30, three years after their marriage started. They'd tried hard, continuously. The doctors couldn't figure out why they couldn't get pregnant, each of them were fertile separately. They'd mapped out the days where the chance of pregnancy was greatest, done every trick in the book, and yet, they still hadn't gotten pregnant.

It was a constant hassle. A constant battle. Every night they'd come home from work, have dinner, watch some T.V. and reluctantly do their duty in an effort to create a miracle baby. Every month would be filled with heartbreak as slowly, but surely, Pam's period would start, and with it, their hopes of a baby would fall onto next month. And each month would accumulate more hope and more disappointment, until finally, nine years after they began trying for their family, the months would be so full of disappointment that there seemed to be no way out.

Their relationship had been a series of negative tests, relatives rubbing an open wound, sex with an unattainable goal, bitter words and unspoken hopes and dreams. Their hearts were both breaking, more at the sight of each other than at their own want and need for a child of their own. She'd gotten pregnant three times, but each time it had seemed like she'd only managed to keep the child for a day before losing it. One time, they'd come close. She'd been approaching month three when she'd woken in the middle of the night, the sheets wet as she sobbed. He'd woken up next to her, felt the wetness of the sheet next to him and heard her loud, demanding sobs and he'd sobbed with her, pulling her into his arms. They hadn't been pregnant since. In fact, they hadn't tried for a baby for a while after that incident. She'd been so brokenhearted he didn't know what to do.

With each month getting heavier and their marriage getting darker and darker, Jim had become exasperated. He was sick of coming home every night and trying for something that would only depress her later. He was sick of the constant worry on her face, the constant fear, and the constant expectation that tonight was different. Tonight was the night. He was sick of looking forward to something that honestly didn't seem like it would ever come true. He was sick of having sex with his wife because they wanted children, not because he enjoyed her or wanted to be with her. He was sick of the constant struggle to be happy when it seemed like their entire life's happiness depended on one line or two. He was sick of it, and he told her that.

Two months ago, they'd had the most emotional fight in their marriage. He hadn't meant to fight with her; he hated fighting with her. But years and years of pent up frustrations and anger seemed to settle on his heart. She'd come home that night after grocery shopping with a face that said she was expecting something that night, and his heart had hurt. He was so sick of that face because he knew it wasn't about him anymore. It was about everything she wanted and could have had. How he wasn't good enough.

_She walks in the door, a smile on her face as she sets the groceries down on the counter. He hears her and sighs softly to himself, knowing he is reacting horribly, but unable to stop it from escaping his lips. When had he become the man that dreaded when his wife came home? It isn't that he hates Pam, or that he doesn't want to be with her. He just misses her. He misses the Pam that had been around before the talk of babies; he could laugh with that Pam, cry with her, hold her, do anything and everything with her and it was all so light. This Pam was different. It was as if every minute spent was a minute they'd wasted where they could have conceived. He hated that feeling._

_He gets up from the couch and walks into the room, giving her a small kiss on the cheek and moving to put the groceries up. It is funny to him that only years before a small kiss on the cheek would have been the beginning of long foreplay, ending in passionate lovemaking. Now, a kiss on the cheek was just a kiss on the cheek, and foreplay consisted of one of them saying "so, you wanna?"_

_She smiles at him and helps him put the groceries away, talking about her day and how she'd spent her lunch break since he had gone out with an old friend. She told him about every minute she spent without him, which he was used to. She was never the type to leave any part of her day out, and most days he appreciated that. Today, he wasn't quite so sure. She is in the middle of talking about her trip down aisle three in the grocery store, and he is half-listening, when suddenly she said something that sent his head straight up._

_"And this little girl, Jim, she was so cute. She couldn't have been more than four but she was just sitting there, eating the animal crackers right out of the box, telling her mommy how she loved her more than animal crackers and I don't know, it just made me really want kids… I know I always have, but more so, I guess." She looks up at him an expectant look on her face. He can tell she half wishes he would just take her right there in the kitchen, planting a baby inside of her that she could have in four years at the grocery store, eating animal crackers out of the box and talking about love._

_He smiles lightly and she looks at him funny for a moment, "Please Jim?"_

_He sighs. He knows he's been dreading this moment for so long, and it is such a sensitive subject he doesn't want to bring it up, but he feels like their expectations are driving a wedge between them, turning them into miserable people. "Pam, not tonight."_

_"Why?" she asks, and he can tell he's hurt her. Her eyes have lost all of their sparkle and her face has fallen, and she's looking at him with that face that tells him that she's heartbroken. The same face she'd looked at him with thirteen years earlier when he'd found her on her kitchen floor, near dead. It breaks his heart to see her like that, but he's convinced he's breaking both of their hearts by not saying anything._

_"I'm just sick of it," he says lightly, reaching for her hand but she pulls it back._

_"Sick of sex with your wife?" She asks, interrupting him, and he knows she's pissed and hurting. He looks at her, wanting so badly to correct her, but knowing he can't._

_"Kind of," he replies softly. "I'm sick of trying night after night to have a baby and being disappointed. I'm sick of having sex because we want kids and not because we love each other."_

_"What are you saying?" she asks, tears forming in her eyes."You don't love me?"_

_"That's not what I'm saying," he replies, his voice rising a bit at the frustration that misunderstanding brings to this situation. "I love you, and I want to have babies with you, but Pam, that shouldn't be our entire life. I just feel like we've been doing this whole trying to get pregnant thing and we haven't had a chance to stop and enjoy each other. It's always 'try this' or 'do that' or 'do you think that was it?' and I just get so frustrated because I just want to enjoy you for you, not for the possibility of you being the one to carry my child."_

_She's silent for a moment, staring a hole into his skin. He can feel the burn from her stare, and since she's not saying anything, he's getting nervous. He hates silence, so much so that he'll say anything to break it. "And I don't know, Pam. It's been what, nine years since we started trying? I'm not a doctor but I know that's a hell of a long time. And it just hurts. I'm sick of the disappointments, and I'm sick of seeing your face so downcast and sad when you come home and you've had your period. It breaks my heart."_

_She's still staring at him, and he almost doesn't know what to do. Her entire forehead is scrunched up and tears are forming in her eyes, but she's not letting them fall. Her arms are crossed over her chest and she's leaning against the counter in her upset-pissed stance that he knows so well. She's putting up a wall, he can tell, but he can't stop talking. He just keeps going. "I think it's time to give up," he says softly, and he knows he just stabbed her heart. He knows he just killed her, and yet, he doesn't regret saying it. He can feel the pain she's feeling and he doesn't even know how to lessen it. "It's just been so long… It's not going to happen, Pam. We should just look into adoption or something."_

_She's crying now, and he knows it's because he just wrecked her world. He's just tired. He's exhausted from watching her so sad and upset every day, and he can barely remember the last time she was happy. "I want to have babies with you," he says softly, touching her arm and this time she doesn't pull away. He's not sure if it's because she doesn't want to, or if it's because she's frozen in place and is too lazy to move. "I just can't do this anymore. It's too painful."_

_She's staring at him with a look that scares him more than anything. The look makes him doubt her love and her commitment, and he feels horrible for doing so, but there's something about the cold stare that makes him half-believe that he just ended their marriage. He knows it's a silly thing to think because she loves him, deeply, but the look pierces him._

_"I'm not ready to give up," she says softly, choking the words out. "Jim, it's all I've ever wanted. And it's not happening." She's sobbing now, her tears falling down her face and he wants to hug her and hold her close, but he can't do that anymore. He's too exhausted to do that._

_She's still crying, and he looks down at his feet, watching her crying is almost too much to bare, even the sounds are turning the knife in his heart. The tears last a while longer, and when she looks up, she sees his eyes staring at their feet._

_"Make dinner." She says softly, walking out of the room, her eyes on her feet, small sobs escaping her. He watches her go up the stairs and for a moment, he feels like collapsing, knowing he just ruined the only woman he's ever truly loved._

_He walks over to the stove and begins cooking her favorite meal, hoping the comfort food will settle her down slightly. He knows that she understands him and what he's saying, even if she doesn't agree with it. When the food is done, he knocks on their bedroom door lightly and she comes downstairs. They eat their meal in silence, each avoiding the glances of the other, unsure of what to do or say._

_She breaks the ice a moment later, when they've both been finished eating for several minutes, but the tension in the air is so thick neither of them could move if they tried._

_"Okay, Jim," she says softly, and he looks up at her, unsure of what she's talking about. "Call the agency tomorrow," she says softly, playing with her fork._

_"Pam…" he says, not even sure himself of what he's going to say next, but luckily, he doesn't have to be. She interrupts him right away._

_"No, Jim… You're right. It's not working, and it's not going to work this way and that's… That's okay. I've always wanted to adopt kids, but I wanted to wait until after we had one of our own… I guess we'll just forego my first step." She smiles weakly at him, locking eyes with him as he looks up at her. He can feel the weights being lifted off his chest as he stares into her eyes, knowing that she understands the problem at hand. He suddenly realizes that she's known this all along, she just needed someone to say it out loud to her, to really break her heart. He realizes that the only reason this lasted as long as it did was because they were doing it for each other._

_"Jim, I miss you." She says, and her voice is almost strong. She gets up out of her chair and walks over to him, her chin resting on his lap as she looks up at him. "I miss you." He nods, knowing what she means, willing himself to answer her, to say it back, but he can only nod._

_She leans up and kisses his neck softly, nibbling on it as she whispers in his ear, "Make love to me." He looks at her, his eyes wide. She smiles and kisses his cheek and whispers in his ear, "like the night you proposed. Make love to me like you did that night." He smiles and for the next hour and a half, he fulfills her wish._

His computer dinged softly, pulling him from his daydream, and he looked up to see an instant message from his favorite person in the world. Since that night two months ago, things for them had changed drastically. They'd called the adoption agency in the morning, putting their name in for consideration of adoption. They hadn't been called back yet, but the woman assured them that they would hear back soon, and was pretty positive that soon they would be welcoming a child into their home. Pam had seemed happier at the news, and Jim had been working longer hours in order to save up more money to go toward the fund of making her happy. All seemed to be going well.

**PHalpert: **I need to talk to you. It's important.

**HalpertJ: **Uh oh. Did I leave the oven on again? Or did I forget to shut the garage door?

**PHalpert**: Jim, now is not the time for your jokes.

He stopped, looking at the screen with a perplexed expression. She sounded so serious it almost made his heart skip a few beats. She'd never been this serious with him before, and he couldn't think of anything that could possibly be going on that would make her this serious. All he knew was that she was acting strange. Really, really strange.

**PHalpert**: You there? Please, let's go out for dinner tonight.

**HalpertJ:** Okay… Should I be worried?

**PHalpert**: I don't think so.

He sighed and watched as she closed out of the IM window, and he mimicked her, doing the same. His mind was whirling with thoughts of what her "important" matter could be, but he couldn't find anything that didn't make him sweat up a storm. Things had been so good for them lately. Their future seemed so bright with the prospect of adopting, and they'd rekindled some of the love and passion that had seemed to dip below the surface the last few years as they tried so hard to conceive. He had fallen in love with her all over again, and he knew it was because they were focused more on each other instead of this object that was supposed to be the symbol of love. They didn't need a symbol, they just needed each other.

He called a few clients, played a small prank on Dwight, and heard Pam's laughter from across the room before it was time to go. At 4:45, he rose slowly out of his chair, grabbing his jacket and briefcase, and walked over to reception where his wife sat. He slowly reached out his hand for her, and she smiled, taking it. They made small talk all the way to the restaurant, each of them nervous about the talk that was going to take place that night. Jim hadn't thought of where he was taking Pam, but for some reason, he didn't worry. He seemed to drive on autopilot to Cugino's, and when they pulled up, he could hear her chuckle lightly and whisper a soft "of course" under her breath.

They sat eating their meal. He had almost finished his chicken when she piped up, dabbing her lips with her napkin. "So, I have some news." She smiled, and his fears and worries of what this "important" thing could be seemed to disappear.

"Okay." He said, putting his fork down and giving her his entire attention, smiling back at her.

"I got a phone call this morning," She starts and stops, waiting for his smart aleck response.

"You're a receptionist," he points out.

There it is. She continues, "From an old friend who works at a huge law firm. You may have heard of it. Thompson, Mercer and Gilligan?" He nodded, remembering that they specialized in real estate law. She continued, hardly paying him any attention. "Well, they offered me a job there."

His eyes went wide. "Wow."

"Yeah," she replied, smiling. "It's double the pay I get at Dunder-Mifflin, and I would be able to work only part time at the office, which means I could work at home and do art while I'm working. It's kind of a strange gig. I would answer the phones in the morning before their other receptionist came in for the afternoons, but then I could work at home doing some email correspondence and setting up appointments and such. If I finished early or ran out of work, I could work on my art or clean the house or call you and badger you." She smiled and winked at him, and he sat staring at you.

"Wow," he replied, knowing he'd only repeated what he'd said earlier.

"You're disappointed," she said, her face falling. "Why are you disappointed, baby?"

He shook his head lightly. "I'm not, I'm really, really happy for you. It sounds like a great opportunity, and you know I've always wanted you to focus more on your art. It really sounds great."

"…but," she said, looking at him concerned, yet smiling at the same time.

"But I'll miss you at the office," he replied.

"I'll miss you too," she said softly. "But I can call and email… I haven't accepted the job yet, I can say no. It's no problem. I'd give up anything to be with you, you know that." She looked at him softly, and he could tell she meant it.

"No," he smiled, reaching for her hand. "This is great news for you. It's seriously what you've always wanted, and you know I want everything for you. I'd give you the world if I could. So, call them back tonight and tell them you'll take it. There's not a minute to lose, dahling," he said, drawing out the last word like he was a southern gentleman.

She laughed softly, "I love you." He smiled, nodding back at her in what she knew was an acknowledgement, and an agreement, of what she'd already said. They finished their dinner and drove home. Jim wandered into the kitchen to start on the dishes while Pam changed, and when she came back downstairs, she wrapped her arms around him and pulled him closer, smelling him.

"Mmm." She murmured, and he smiled, knowing the affect he had on her. "I have an idea," she said, and he put his hands over hers, as if to tell her to continue. "We should watch our movie tonight."

"Our movie," He replied, laughing. He knew what movie she was talking about, but the fact that she had called it their movie struck him as somewhat funny.

"Jerry Maguire," she stated, pouting. He knew it was just for show.

"Ahh," he said, turning around in her arms. "I believe that's actually TriStar's movie." He tapped her nose and she grinned, leaning up and kissing him lightly. He smiled. "You put it in and get the popcorn ready; I'll go change."

She nodded and they reluctantly broke apart, heading their separate ways. Five minutes later they were laying on the couch, making fun of the classic movie. Their hands entwined, Pam knew Jim was waiting for the same line she was. The "you complete me" line that seemed to say it all. They always made a big deal of that line, mocking it whenever they got the chance, both knowing that nobody should be expected to complete another person. As it got nearer, their hands instinctively hugged tighter, until finally it came. They sat in anticipation, and then when Tom opened his mouth, they both cried out, feigning emotional depth, "You complete me." She could feel his laughter as his stomach moved against her back and she smiled to herself, knowing that her life was perfect.

When the credits rolled, she stared at the TV for another moment or so before she turned over in his arms, their stomachs touching. She leaned up and kissed Jim, staring at him for a moment before smiling.

"Are you going to propose?" She asked softly, giggling to herself.

"Nope," He smiled, pulling her closer. "I'm just gonna look at you."

She laughed and let him look at her for a moment, and when he leaned in to kiss her a moment later, she didn't do anything but kiss him back. She took a break from kissing and simply let her lips rest on his. She smiled against his lips and then whispered into his mouth, "We're pregnant, Jim."

He pulled back, looking at her for a moment. "What?" He asked, no expression on his face. "Are you sure? Are you kidding?"

"I'm not kidding," she said softly. "I kind of thought maybe I was, but I didn't go to the doctor because I didn't want to be disappointed…" She looked down at their hands for a moment, then back up to his eyes. "I went today during our lunch break, that's where I disappeared to…"

"Yeah, you left me to have lunch with Michael.At Hooters," Jim said curtly, as if her transgression earlier was so unforgiveable that even the baby news wouldn't make absolve her of her sins.

"Sorry about that," she smiled. "But, the doctor confirmed it. Two months."

"Wow," he said softly, wrapping his arms around her tightly. "How are you feeling?"

"Good. Better." She smiled up at him. "I feel like this one is actually it… I had some doubts about the ones before, but this one feels right."

He smiled and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her in for a hug. "Wait, two months?"

She smiled, nodding slowly. "You mean… That night we…" He said, trailing off. She nodded again, slower this time.

"Amazing what can happen when you just make love, huh?" She smiled, and he laughed, kissing her. He held her softly, dreaming of all of the things his future could bring, with a wonderful wife and a child on the way. He thought of Pam's new job, her chance to do what she really wanted to do. He thought of their past, and it seemed like the future was only getting brighter.

He dreamed of the child that sat nestled safely inside Pam. He thought of how little he or she must be. He decided it was girl, it would have to be. He thought of the beautiful curls she would have, the expressive eyes, and the gorgeous smile. He thought about how she would be a jokester, like her father, and a fighter, like her mother. He thought about how he would take her on dates, show her how men should treat their women. He thought about the late nights he would have, feeding her and changing her diaper, the times he'd push her on the swings, how he'd tuck her into bed, and all of the art that would decorate his fridge. He thought about the Christmases when she would rip off the wrapping paper, the Thanksgivings where she would eat all of the turkey, her birthday parties and her graduation, her wedding and her children. All that his life would entail now that a little miracle was waiting to come shake it upside down.

He should have assumed that things wouldn't turn out as planned, but he didn't. His entire life had been a series of unplanned occurrences, of shattered hopes and dreams that were only glued back together again, even more beautiful with the light that shined through the cracks. He should have known his future would be different, but he didn't.

* * *

"Daddy! Daddy!" The words echoed through the house as soon as he opened the door, and he smiled to himself as six little feet and two bigger ones came running over to him. He smiled and kissed Pam softly, taking in the natural beauty that radiated from her messy hair, jeans, and finger-painted face. She smiled at him, one of those smiles that he could feel down in his toes, and he knew she was happier than she'd ever been. He leaned into kiss her again, but felt tiny hands tugging at his pants, and he bent down, looking at his children.

"Hi!" He smiled, putting his arms out for a hug as his children tottered into them. He looked back at them, smiling as he took in how beautiful they were. The twins, Bella and Joshua, were four now, and growing so big each and every day. They looked nearly identical to Pam, so much so that he sometimes wondered if there was something she should tell him. They had curly honey blonde hair, huge smiles and bright eyes. Bella had inherited her mother's eyes, while Joshua had inherited his. He laughed when he saw how they were dressed, Bella in Johsua's army pants with a toy gun attached to her waist and Joshua in Bella's Snow White dress. Jim laughed and rolled his eyes, hoping it was just a phase.

"They were fighting over it," Pam said, smiling as she watched Jim's reaction. "I told them they could switch for five minutes and then that was it." He nodded, glad to know there was a reasoning behind the cross-dressing his twins had undergone.

He turned to the other little girl that had toddled into his arms, the quieter of the bunch. She looked nothing like Jim or Pam with her jet-black hair and bright green eyes, but they loved her just as much. Two years after the twins had been born, they'd received a call from the adoption agency, congratulating them on making it to the top of the list. They'd sent pictures of a few children to the house, and although Pam and Jim had their hands full with the twins, they couldn't resist adding to their happy household. They'd picked Maya, bringing her home the next week and before they'd even got her to the house, they'd fallen in love with her.

She grinned up at him and stuck her arms out, and he picked her up in his arms, holding her as he stood up. "Hi miss Maya papaya." She giggled and he smiled at her.

The twins were running around his feet, chasing each other in a game of tag. Pam looked at them, "Bella, Josh, stop it." They stopped in their tracks and looked up, confused as to why they couldn't run around like they did all day. Pam stepped closer to Jim, sandwiching Maya into a hug before looking back at the twins, "Okay, you can run now." She laughed softly and reached her hands up, cupping Jim's face, and kissed him softly.

"I've missed you, baby." She smiled, patting Maya's back.

"I missed you too," he said, glad to be home.

She smiled and took his hand in hers. "Bella and Josh put on a play at school this afternoon. It was really cute." He smiled, knowing his face was lighting up at the sound of his miracles. "And this one," she pointed at Maya, bopping her on the head lightly and smiling when Maya giggled, "made cookies with her cousin Charlotte this morning while Mommy was at work."

Jim smiled. "Mmmm!" he made the noise in Maya's ear, causing her to giggle. "Yummy Yummy Yummy!" He made a face at Maya and she grinned, kissing him on the cheek.

"What about you?" he turned back to Pam, smiling. Her face lit up, and he wasn't sure why she was so excited he'd asked because he did it every day, but for some reason whenever he did, she lit up. She could never put into words how much she loved that he made her more than just the twins and Maya's mother. She was always Pam with him. Pam the mother, Pam the wife, Pam the artist, Pam the lover, Pam the best friend. He truly understood all of her, not just the little things about her.

"I finished an art piece while Maya was napping. I called the gallery and I need to take it by there tomorrow morning before I pick up the twins. They might put it in the gallery." Jim beamed, and she smiled in response, knowing how immensely proud of her he was. "Mostly though, I was just in love with you."

"All day long?" he asked, teasing her. "That must be exhausting."

She laughed. "It is, but it's so worth it." She smiled, taking his hand and leading him into the kitchen, being careful to step in between the twins. She opened the oven and pulled out dinner, calling the twins as Jim took Maya to wash up.

As he watched his children running around in anticipation for dinner, he couldn't help but smile. His life was hectic and completely different from what he'd thought it would be thirty years ago, but as he approached his sixteenth anniversary with Pam, he knew he wouldn't want it any other way. He marveled at how beautiful it was that she could look just as gorgeous at forty five as she had at twenty five, and he knew it had nothing to do with her looks. There was something inside of her that caught him, pulled him into her in a way he couldn't describe.

The beauty of their relationship was in the unordinary. They were by no means the conventional couple, and they didn't have the conventional lifestyle, but they were always growing and changing, learning to depend on each other, even when times were rough. They'd taken the shattered parts of their lives and leaned on one another, relying on each other to help heal and mend the broken parts. They would constantly teach and mold each other, but they would never, ever complete each other. Because as they reminded themselves countless times over the years of their marriage, you couldn't expect anyone else to complete you. You had to complete yourself, and only then could you ever be happy.

* * *

_I hope you liked it. The story, and this chapter. Just a quick note. I nanny for three year old boy-girl twins. I found out the other day that their parents had been married for almost fifteen years before they'd gotten pregnant, and I can just see how much that long wait has affected the way they view their children and each other--they're so in love with each other and the twins it's ridiculous... I stole their story to end this one because I've been trying to communicate how life can be messed up, but still be good, and I think their story does that. So, I hope you enjoyed it. :) And I promise, I don't COMPLETELY hate Jerry Maguire! That one line just rubs me wrong._

_Please review and let me know what you think!!!_


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